Untitled: Accepting Ideas from Reviewers
by JanieNine
Summary: Ninety years after Harry Potter defeated Voldemort, Slytherins are persecuted and most pure-bloods are hiding in their now-crumbling manors. This story follows Rae as she discovers the prejudices facing her and sets out to overcome them. Rated T for violence and perhaps language. No sexual content for those who don't like it!
1. Chapter 1

A note to potential fans, haters, "flamin' preps," well-reasoned critics, and anyone else who might give a flipping hoo ha about my writing: Now, this is going to be a fairly long fanfiction, which I hope to write into a larger series if it becomes a success. I would very much appreciate some reviews, and I definitely want to hear about inconsistencies you find with content, how I voice characters according to their ages (some of my characters are young, and I can't have them speak like adults), how I choose to use capitalization, or anything else you think of (OR TYPOS BECAUSE I HATE THOSE). (See how I cleverly avoided ending that sentence with a preposition?) I will tell you that some things might be a little inconsistent with the Rowling books, though I'll try to provide an explanation for everything. For example, why would we find a Parselmouth in someone who isn't a descendant of Slytherin? That happens a couple times throughout the book. Don't worry: I have taken that into account. If there's something you think I've missed, tell me so that I can change it or incorporate it into the plot! A small warning to anyone who wants to read this: You'll have to be in this for the long haul. I'm a slow writer. I've written the first 100 pages or so, but they need to be heavily edited. After those pages, it might take months for me to be inspired enough for another chapter. That said, I promise that each chapter will be up to the same quality. In addition, all chapters will be at least 10 pages single spaced in Microsoft Word. No need to worry about gimpy chapters from me. I will also try to keep chapter lengths somewhat consistent, because that's something that bothers me in other fanfictions that I've read.

Thanks in advance for the support that I may (or may not) receive. I know that the community here can be quite splendid with one another, and I hope that you treat me with the same respect that you give other good writers on this site. (Aka, don't review me like you would review My Immortal. I might not be the best writer, but I'm literate at least.) This is going to be a big journey for me, and hopefully for you guys as well. I want to make you laugh sometimes, and I certainly want to make you feel like crying out of happiness and out of sadness. I may never achieve those things, but those are my goals, because I want to touch all of you the way stories touch me. And now, onto the monstrosity itself!

Notes for this chapter: Thanks to Kat Ducat, who sent me a lovely review targeting specific areas that I could fix. I would also like to thank hiddenhibernian for rewriting the summary of my story. You didn't have to do that, and it was kind of you to do so. A big thank you to the people who've decided to follow this story after only two chapters! I can hardly believe that you people actually have that much respect for my writing skills (or extreme lack thereof).

* * *

A snake twirled itself through the young girl's fingers. It was a harmless garter, one of the ones the girl found in the weedy patch of the garden. Her mother always tried to trim the weeds, but she made them grow back. She felt almost like her older brother. He was magical; he was even in Gryffindor, the "special house." Everyone wanted to be there now. She remembered a few bedtime stories with her mother, when she told of a dark time many years ago, when a young man named Harry Potter attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

_"Tonight," her mother began, "I will tell you of the time of Harry James Potter, the greatest hero who ever lived. He is still alive today, but he doesn't go out much." Mrs. Magelin seemed to laugh at her own private joke, and then continued. Harry Potter was born to Lily and James, who loved him very much. But then, an evil, horrible, _Slytherin_ man came to visit them at their house."_

_"What's his name, mummy?" the girl asked. _

_"We do not speak his name. Instead we call him He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or You-Know-Who."_

_"But I don't know who!"_

_"Well, you know he was a bad man, and he killed a lot of innocent people, and that's all you need to know about that." The girl's mouth opened in a silent o. Her mother looked gravely down upon her daughter's face, reveling in the innocence it still held. She heard tell of her first killing, and she couldn't fathom the grief behind it. The girl's mother wished for the days when that were still true for her. The woman continued, blinking back remembered tears. She was too young to remember the war, but she lived through the gristly aftermath, and her parents acted as soldiers. She lost three of her aunts to the cause. "Well this man, he came to their house when Harry was just a baby, and do you know what he did?"_

_"What?" whispered the girl._

_"He killed both the parents." Her daughter hid her head under the covers._

_"Mama! Don't tell me anymore! It's so scary!"_

_"It gets happier from that," the girl lifted her head, "He tried to kill the little baby. You-Know-Who said the magic words, and… he died. That was it. That little baby got rid of the worst wizard who ever lived. Do you want to know how?"_

_"Yes yes YES!" The girl's voice escalated with each repetition._

_"His mother loved him so much that You-Know-Who couldn't harm him. That was it. And this Harry Potter, he grew up with his aunt and uncle. Both of them were Muggles, and boy were they shocked when they found out he could do magic! Now can you guess where Harry went when he turned eleven?"_

_"HOGWARTS!" the girl screamed._

_"That's right! He went to Hogwarts, and Professor Minerva McGonogall placed the Sorting Hat upon its head. Do you know what it said? It didn't say Gryffindor at first. It actually told him to go to Slytherin. The hat would never say that out loud, but he told Harry in his head that Slytherin would make him great. And do you know what Harry did?" The girl shook her head solemnly, without making a word. "He said no. That was it; all he had to do was say no. The Sorting Hat realized right then and there that Harry wanted to be a good wizard instead of a bad one. And where do all the good wizards go?"_

_"Gryffindor of course," answered the girl matter-of-factly._

_"Very good! That' where your father and I both went, and that's your brother Jerrod's house at school. The Ravenclaws are wonderful because they're very smart, but they don't think about each other. They simply want to beat one another to the finish line, and see who learns the most by the time they get there. The Hufflepuffs are great, but what if they're loyal to each other based around an unworthy cause? Then you've got a mindless army of followers who would die for whatever their friends supported. Hufflepuffs need to grow a bit of a backbone. And then we have Slytherin. They're manipulative, like snakes, and they feed ideas into your brain about how they can make you better. Powerful wizards come out of Slytherin, but they're not often good ones."_

_"Oh no," the girl whimpered softly._

_"Yes, you have to be very careful of these Slytherin types. Of course, a whole group of people wanted to live there. They're called the "purebloods" because their blood was only from wizards for generations and generations. They married their own cousins to keep their blood within the wizards only."_

_"Ewww…" The girl thought of marrying her brother and stuck out her tongue._

_"Exactly. Slytherin became the house for pureblooded wizards, and they liked to take over the Ministry of Magic when they graduated so they got all the money and hid it from everyone else. All in all, these Slytherins weren't good people. You did see the occasional Slytherin, like Professor Severus Snape, who became an exceptional wizard, but even he turned to the dark side. Being Slytherin is a one-way ticket to evil." She shook her head quickly, trying to clear it of such politically incorrect statements, and corrected herself, "You can come back from it of course, and I would _never _say that everyone in Slytherin is evil because I think the best of everyone," the mother paused to take a breath and continued in a sickly sweet tone, "_honey_, but it's a bad place to be. Do you understand? If the Sorting Hat ever asks you where you want to be, what is your answer?"_

_"Gryffindor of course. That's where all the good guys are!"_

_"Very good." The mother kissed her daughter's forehead and readied herself for bed, her training finished for the day. _

The girl laughed to herself; even as a five-year-old she knew only fools wanted to live in Slytherin. She looked down at the snake again; it flicked its tongue at her, repeatedly, shaking somewhat. "Are you laughing too?" she asked him.

"Of course I am laughing. What you think is funny must be so," it hissed at her.

"I was just thinking about Slytherin. It would be silly for me to go there. Only the bad people go there."

"Have you ever encountered such a person?"

"No, but they're obviously bad."

"Why?"

"They talk to snakes."

"Aren't you talking to me right now?"

"You won't tell anyone, will you? I don't think this counts, since you're just a little snake, like me, and I'm not eleven yet."

"You will cease speaking to me once you become eleven? This is a human year, no? You are…" he calculated for a second, "I have no clue. You value time differently than I."

"I'm eight. Of course I won't stop talking to you! We'll just need to be secretive about it. Okay? People here don't like kids who can speak to snakes."

The snake started mumbling to himself, "Such a peculiar race, you humans. You do not respect those with an added talent, simply because you are afraid of their abilities. It's curious as to why you even accept each other when you all look different." He raised his voice in question to the small girl, "Are we not being secretive at this time?"

"Even more secret," the girl said and giggled as the snake slithered to her chest and flicked his tongue at her face, similar to how a dog would lick his master. Though he would normally keep from degrading himself to the role of a simple pet, the snake understood that this human was small and did not understand many things. He never quite understood why he had taken such a liking to her, or she to him, but she never laughed with other snakes in the garden. She played with only him, he who loved her like what the humans would call a kitten. He would call a kitten, that-furball-that-is-unfortunately-too-large-to-consume-and-that-eats-my-mice, but the name seemed too long to teach to the human child.

The snake looked at the girl closely. Her curls were splayed wildly about her head. They were much darker than they had been the summer before. They were golden then, and now they were brown. He could see they would turn black by the following summer. "Do these humans show off their hair as we do our scales?" he wondered to himself, "They must, for their skin is not beautiful. Yet, it is not so ugly as that of the elephant."

The little girl looked down at him, eyes as wide as supper plates. "What are you thinking, Snakey? Is it a secret? I love secrets! I keep them really good, you know."

"It's 'well', my dear. Please use correct grammar. You know I cannot stand bad grammar." The snake found her exceedingly adorable with her toddler-like lisp in her hissing, but no amount of cuteness could deter him from his love of correct grammar. He didn't care how young the child was; she would learn correct grammar if it killed him. T

"Sorry," she hissed back. "Why do I speak different when I'm with you? It's so weird."

"I am personally offended by that remark. What is so 'weird' about my language? It is magnificent, the patterns of intricate hisses and motions of the tongue. It is an ancient art, and you are privileged to have been born with the skill. Many would have killed to speak with me years ago. And you speak differently with me because your parents are not snakes and do not know how to speak to them."

"I mean that talking with my parents is weird! The words are all so harsh! I only get to hiss on the words that have s's in them. It makes me sad, Snakey. Why doesn't everything start with s? Ssssssssss," she hissed and smiled.

The snake had given up on trying to teach her differences between his native language and her own, for now. Adverbs and adjectives eluded her, though it did for most at such a young age, or so he'd heard from older snakes, those who'd had many a human with whom to converse. Though, he thought again, they were both her native languages. She had spoken with him for the first time when she was one year old, before she spoke the exotic human tongue. Her mother held her in the garden when he crept up, and she hissed at him softly. The large woman, easily nine times the size of her daughter, called for what he assumed to be her mate who shooed him away with a broom. This part of the world, or any part for that matter, no longer revered the snake. The Dark One had seen to that. Snakes were all given a bad name, simply because this man could speak to them. It was rare for all the snakes across the world to know the name of a particular human, but almost every snake knew his. If he were not dead, an army of his 'controlled subjects' would probably find a way to kill him.

"Rae, sweetheart, come in now. Time for supper."

"Yes, mummy!" the girl called and toddled away. The snake cast his eyes upon the ground; a sign of disappointment. The gesture was reserved for magical snakes before it evolved into human culture. The girl ran back to him, and he lifted his head immediately. "Don't worry, Snakey. I'll be back tomorrow, okay?"

The snake chucked; it sounded like a few strangled hisses strung together. However, a Parselmouth would understand what he meant. "Goodbye, young one. We will meet on the morrow, I believe."

The girl nodded her head, completely ignorant as to what he said, and sprinted full tilt back to her home. "Sorry, mummy!" she yelled when she entered the house. Usually, she yelled very little around her parents, but she thought it was time she do so or they would become worried. Being only eight, she couldn't totally understand why screaming about everything would keep her parents happy, but she knew that they'd be worried if she didn't. She sometimes saw a concerned glance from her father if she kept too quiet. So she smiled, showing her somewhat crooked teeth, and her dimpled cheeks.

Her father came into the room, picked her up, and swung her in a circle. "Hi, Pretty! Where did you go today? To a castle in the sky? Across an ocean with fairies? To see robed wizards in white?"

"Silly daddy. I went underground today. On a safari! I saw lions, and tigers, and bears!"

"Oh my," her mother said as she came into the room. She and her husband chuckled; they had seen the Muggle 'movie,' _The Wizard of Oz_, as part of a Muggle Studies class. It was fairly ridiculous that Muggles dreamed of such things. A city of green, how ridiculous! It would be against Gryffindor! Both of them would much rather have seen a city clad in red and gold.

It was startling how similar their family looked to one another, almost as if they had followed the pureblood custom of marrying within families. The father shuddered inwardly. "Disgusting custom," he thought. "Like the rest of their customs, all disgusting. No wonder everyone hates them." He and his wife, both quarter-bloods and proud of it, now had quarter-blood children, assuring their line did not possess any more wizard blood than it needed to. Surprisingly, he and his wife looked the same, though they came from areas nowhere near each other in Britain, he from London, and she from a small town on the coast. They both had dark brown hair, though his was straight and thin while hers was thick and curly, and light eyes. His were gray, his wife's were blue, and his son had one of each. His daughter's eyes changed at will. Her hair was originally golden, like the Gryffindor lion, but it had soon become the same tone as his and his wife's. It was thick, very bushy, and always filled with debris. Rae hated having it brushed.

The night passed uneventfully: Rae pleased both her parents with talk of meeting a mythical creature in the garden who introduced her to the tigers. When her friend flicked his little finger, the tigers rolled onto their back like common housecats. She told him the creature had taught her a language, though she fibbed slightly when they told her to speak it. She made a few babbling noises, similar to the Goblin language, gobbledegook. It worked its magic; her parents wouldn't suspect a thing for a while. After supper she bathed and went to bed, quickly falling asleep in anticipation for meeting her snake the following day.

* * *

"Snakey!" she nearly shouted as she reached the garden. The garter snake poked his head out of the weeds obediently. Though he usually would have slept during this time of the day, she was awake, and he made her happy. Thus, he remained awake, learning to sleep at night like a human.

"What should we play today?"she asked, petting his head softly with her finger.

"What would you like to play? I know you usually like to do something with mudpies on Mondays, but if you changed your mind, I would understand."

"Mudpies! Yay! Mudpie means it's Monday!—" The take took a moment to curse himself silently for bringing up the infamous mudpies. "—And I go to school in two weeks since it's Monday! And then, I will make more friends, and I will show them to you, and we will have lots of fun, and we will eat ice cream with cherries and chocolate sauce and whipped cream and have crumpets and tea and play with dolls!" The snake sighed, for more reasons than one. Clearly, his human didn't understand the meaning of "secret." He also disdained ice cream and all manners of sweet food, and the run-on sentences that such treats apparently caused. "Disgusting piece of human trash. My human is _clearly_ the exception," he hissed to himself.

"What's that, snakey?"

"Nothing, Sweet. Just hissing to myself about what fun we'll have making mudpies." He was surprised that he hissed aloud, but the girl never paid him too close attention, for now anyway. He flicked his tail in irritation at the thought of making mudipes; they dirtied his scales.

Three hours of solid dirt turned to mud later, the snake and his human were thoroughly filthy. Some would call the pair of them repulsive, but the smile on Rae's face kept the snake from feeling that. "Odd that I know her name yet she does not know mine," he thought, "Yet, she is a child. She has time to learn it. I will wait until she can formulate a sentence without committing some atrocious transgression of language."

At almost that precise moment, Rae's mother jogged onto the lawn, shaking her head in mock disbelief. "Young lady! What have you gotten yourself into this morning?" she asked, scolding her, but with a smile barely concealed behind her lips.

"I was making mud pies, mummy!" Rae said, smiling pleasantly. She knew her snake had promptly hidden himself as soon as he heard the creak of their screen door opening.

"I see that. Now, we need to get you cleaned up before your father comes home." She grabbed the little girl by the hand and made to bring her inside.

"Wait, mummy! I need to say goodbye to my friends!" the girl protested and ran back to the weeds.

"Bye! I'll see you Wednesday! Miss you, Sn—" she stopped herself; she sensed she'd gone too far. Though she was small, it was hard to ignore the opinions her parents had of snakes and Slytherins.

"Who's your friend, Rae?" her mother asked, barely keeping her voice from trembling. She wasn't sure if it was from agitation or fear, but it was probably a combination of both.

The little girl looked down at her mud-splattered trainers. "I-I didn't want you to know. You don't like him."

"Who is he, Rae?" her mother asked again, her voice taking on a steely edge.

She rocked back and forth from one foot to the other. "A snake. I don't know his name. But he's nice, mummy! I swear it on the Sword of Gryffindor!"

(From behind the bush, the snake held back a hiss of exasperation. "Note to self: eight-year-olds named Rae cannot keep secrets under any circumstances," he thought.)

Mrs. Magelin's voice felt like an ice injection into Rae's eardrums. "Don't you dare say his name with that unclean mouth of yours. Young lady, come here." Rae took a couple relunctant steps forward and received the deserved swat on the bum. She could barely hold back her tears, but she knew her mother wouldn't want to see them. She broke the family rules, and breaking rules meant consequences in her family. "Go upstairs, and wash your mouth with soap. I do not condone Parselmouths in my house, young lady."

"Yes, mummy. I—" her voice broke, "I'm s-sorry," the girl said between hiccoughs, as large tears dripped down her face and onto her jumper.

"Run along now," was all her mother could say as she tried to keep the ringing out of her ears.

Rae wept as she sprinted towards the house, away from her only friend, and into what this friend could only consider as darkness. The snake watched from the reeds, wishing now that she knew his name. But no one had called him by that name for a long while, for he had lived longer than was possible for snakes to live. His family had long departed. When a snake had a human, she kept him alive without realizing it. He watched his brothers, his sisters, his mate, and his children die around him. He never met his grandchildren, and he probably never would because of this girl. Her name sounded much finer in Parseltongue, but even in English the sound was beautiful. He felt like a version of her father, though he knew he could not be one. If snakes could cry, "or would cry with our amount of pride," he thought with self-loathing, "I would be now." She did look back to him, and he told himself it was because she knew he would always be there. He hoped to whatever God snakes worshiped that he was right.

* * *

That night, as her parents argued over where to put her, the snake visited her room. He slithered through the door the Magelins carelessly opened to let in cool air in the August heat and crossed the floor to where he felt she would be. Her room, luckily on the first floor of the house, was easy to enter. She saw his tongue flick under the door a couple times and opened it for him. Her parents, fighting in the next room ignored her, though she was the subject of discussion. "But we can't just put her out on the street! What are you saying? Are you sane right now? Do your precious_ friends_ matter that much to you?" Rae could hear her father shouting. She saw a vein bulge from his red neck, and his words slammed against her mother's ears like a punch to the face. Her mother stood opposed to him, her arms crossed over her chest, and her lips pursed into a thin line. "I don't want to kick her onto the street, but I'm sure there's a place we could put her," she hissed, "I just don't want people finding out about this!" The snake slunk in while Rae watched the scene unfold for a few seconds. He didn't lift his head to see what he knew would be a tear-stained face. "Why did you come?" she hissed, "I'll get in trouble!"

"You are already in trouble."

"And they say you're bad. That you make people into Dark Wizards. Why would you do that to me?" her voice carried the accusation of the century. Of course, she applied it only to him, but at one point every human (and animal, reflected the snake) asked why fate would treat them so unfairly.

"I would never turn you into a Dark Wizard? Do you feel like a Dark Wizard?"

Rae sniffled, "No," she said glumly.

"Good. Listen, I am simply your friend, and I care about you." The snake tried to look as reassuring as he could. He tried to look like her parents, so that his expression best matched ones she recognized as comforting. Unfortunately, inter-species barriers prevented him from getting very far with that strategy.

"How can you be? I get punished when I stay with you! My mummy made me wash my mouth with soap for hissing. It tasted so awful I thought my tongue would fall off." Her eyes welled with more tears.

"Shhhhhh," the snake murmured, a little unfamiliar with the custom, and hoped it was the correct thing to do to sooth a crying child. He had seen her mother do it many times when she cried over a scraped knee in the garden. The sound was similar to the word for "dead mouse," in Parseltongue, and he hoped she understood his intent.

Rae quieted immediately. "But Snaaakeeey!" she protested, her tone still low, still afraid to express herself with her parents in the next room, "What'll I do? They won't love me!"

"They will always love you," replied the snake, completely oblivious to the argument in the next room. He wanted to add that they were genetically programmed to do so as well as the fact that she was an adorable child, but neither would make sense to an irrationally upset eight-year-old. Though, as he considered the situation more, her worries were not irrational at all. The desire to be loved was one of the strongest human beings and many other animals held dear. To say that only humans needed love was something a Gryffindor might say. He hoped her parents would love her, even with her snake-like qualities, but the woman today put him in further doubt than he thought he could reach with matters of love. Her eyes pierced through the grass with intent to kill, regardless of whether the thing she killed was her daughter's best and only friend. He couldn't understand the argument just outside the door, but he heard rumors of parents who cast their children out as orphans for their abilities. The snake made an executive decision to keep that fact to himself. "She need not know things that only cause harm," he whispered to himself, afraid to speak loudly even in his mind.

She sniffed, wiping her running nose with the back of her sleeve. "I hope so, Snakey"

Her mother turned the handle on the door. "Quick! Hide!" Rae whispered, but the snake did not need to be told. He wriggled under the bed just before Rae's mother twisted the knob and pushed into the room. "It's not eavesdropping," the snake rationalized, "It will be good that I hear this, so I can better help the little girl through her problems tomorrow, if her family doesn't cast her onto the street right now." If she left, he would willingly go with her. It would not be fair to force a girl, especially one so young, to leave her family. Besides, he didn't know if he could survive without her magic.

The woman knelt before her daughter, who had started crying profusely again. "Sweetie," she smiled, "We know you're not evil. Don't worry. We love you."

"Then why did you fight with daddy?"

"We're worried about our friends, who don't know you. They're scared people, scared of other people, people like you." Her mother hoped that by using the word people enough times she might confuse her daughter into thinking the situation hadn't really been an argument. From the tears still in her daughter's eyes, apparently her method failed. "Honey, we both know nothing bad will ever come from you. We love you, darling." She said these words to reassure her daughter, and partially herself. She desperately hoped they were true, but the matrons at You-Know-Who's orphanage hadn't suspected him of wreaking havoc on the world.

Rae sniffed and wrapped her arms around her mother, who picked her up and cradled her in her arms. Her father came in as well and the three of them embraced for what felt like an eternity to the outsider under the bed. He would never experience that again, nor could he hope to. He had chosen his path, to be with Rae. Though the road would be tough, he would protect her all he could, hopefully with as much support as he could muster. "Though now," he thought, "is not the time for support-mustering. Now is the time for watching and waiting." He purposely left out the feeling of self-pity. "Upstanding snakes do not feel self-pity," he reminded himself. He did not add that they might wish or hope to; such feelings must always be repressed. It was not his nature.

* * *

Rae Magelin lived a happy, carefree life for three months. Mr. and Mrs. Magelin were prominent members of the wizarding community, at least in their village. Unfortunately, bad news rode a fast broomstick. Word reached the ears of the largest gossip in town within a week. The Magelins lived across from her only because that house was the only house on the market, and for good reason. She saw everything, particularly Rae presenting her snake friend to her parents and showing them the phonetics of Parseltongue. Only seeing half of the story, she did not notice the uncomfortable looks on Magelins' faces, save their daughter's, when they saw the snake conversing with Rae as easily as one would order a basket of chips off the street . She saw it as the Magelin family teaching their daughter one of the Darkest Arts, one associated with the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself, or the Dark One, as he snake lore dubbed him. It had been at least eighty years, the wizarding community was still scarred by the wounds inflicted by Tom Riddle, the orphan boy who surprisingly turned against them all. Only Harry Potter had saved them, still alive, on a small estate in Godric's Hollow. His children had grown, and had children of their own; the youngest was about the same age as Rae. The legacy of the Potter family remained, and Harry, as much as he hated it, gritted his teeth and answered his fan mail, probably due to the influence of his wife, Ginny. Ginny, who passed two months ago, always answered his fan mail with him on Sunday afternoons, and Harry still kept the custom as one of his many reminders of his late wife. And though Harry, in his letters and elsewhere, tried to show that not all Slytherins were as bad as Tom Riddle, he never tried too hard. Harry gave the impression that it was a miracle for a Slytherin became a good wizard, like Severus Snape. For all his beliefs that he shared with his children about Slytherin being a noble house, he followed his father in believing that Slytherin was an ugly house, full of the children of dark wizards and purebloods who only wanted to steal magic from the rest of the wizarding community.

Thus, because Harry said it, though not explicitly, the wizarding world took the opportunity to eradicate such profane evil from its presence. Slytherin graduates suddenly lost their jobs at the Ministry of Magic for issues such as tardiness, ink smudges on paperwork, or failure to provide cookies for the entire office. A couple fringe groups eradicated the heirs to prominent Slytherin Households, though the Ministry "tried" to stop them. The entirety of Slytherin house was expelled from Hogwarts and left the school with three houses for a spell. The Board of Governors and the new Headmaster soon realized that, though the original Slytherins were stopped from entering Hogwarts, new ones would enter, and the Sorting Hat refused to stop sorting them into the house where they truly belonged.

Slytherin House became the bane of the Hogwarts experience. If someone failed a test, it was a Slytherin's fault. Pranks were constantly played upon the Slytherins, especially the first year students. It went so far as to have a student pelted with food from the trolley on the Hogwarts Express as soon as he was sorted. He and his brother, a Ravenclaw, had expected him to become a Ravenclaw as well and gathered sweets from the trolley to pelt at the poor, arriving Slytherins to help them understand their true place at Hogwarts. Of course, the plan backfired on the boy, and some teachers did not want to stop it. They did, but only after his brother had landed a few well-placed shots. Most of the teachers gave points to other houses when a Slytherin student got an answer correct, saying they forgot the house of the student in question. Then, when the Slytherin tried to protest, points were taken from his house. Often, Slytherin ended the year with negative House Points.

This gossip spread each and every one of these facts, like a pernicious weed spreading over a meadow. Almost immediately, the community turned against the Magelins. Mrs. Magelin noticed a few dirty looks one day or a couple "accidental hexes" the next.

On a short trip to the local wizard's market, Rae remembered women shoving their hat brims down over their eyes to avoid looking at them. A couple probably thought Rae could turn them to stone with a single, malice-filled glance. "What would you like help with today, Mrs. Magelin?" said the shopkeeper, who came out to speak with Mrs. Magelin since every assistant refused. The shop's owner, a former Hufflepuff and friend to Mrs. Magelin, remained the sole person in their village who didn't think their daughter would possess them all with demons and kill their children.

"Let's see," Mrs. Magelin pulled out her exquisitely written shopping list. "A couple bezoars," neighbors whispered about her daughter testing different snake venoms and having a bezoar nearby just in case, "Butterscotch," neighbors thought only a possessed freak would buy something so sinfully sweet on a Tuesday and ignored the fact that they also purchased some, "and some flobberworm mucus." The chorus of neighbors rose into a heated debate over how many powerful sleeping draughts the evil child had produced, and how many people the child's unfortunate mother needed to wake up with a wiggenweld potion. Rae looked straight ahead, and tried to think of how good her afternoon snack would taste when she returned home. Mrs. Magelin looked anxiously over her shoulder. The neighbors didn't pretend to stop staring, since they feared they'd be eaten alive if they looked aware for more than a second.

"Quickly, if you don't mind," Mrs. Magelin urged the shopkeeper.

"Agatha," Rae flinched at the sound of her mother's first name; she didn't hear it often. "Might I talk to you in private for a little after I ring you up? I'll walk back with you if you want; the assistants can take care of the shop for an hour."

"Yes, I suppose that would be fine. I asked George to make me a little tea for when I returned anyway. Errands seem to be a little trying these days." She shot a pointed glance over her shoulder, one that was answered with more than a few glares.

A few minutes later, the women sat in the Magelins' parlor, discussing Rae's future. Rae had grown rather tired of hearing all this. She pulled out her snake from her back pocket; he had been allowed to stay with her at all times since her parents learned she was a Parselmouth. "Better a garter snake than one with venom," reasoned her father in an attempt to persuade his wife to let Rae keep her friend. Sitting down with her snake, she embarked on what would prove to be a ravishing lesson on the difference between adjectives and adverbs in Parseltongue.

"Aggie, I really don't think she should live here anymore. Look at what it's doing to you! You're going to go gray in the next week if you keep her in your house. It's not that she's a bad kid, never met a sweeter one in my life to tell you the truth, but the neighborhood is ridiculous. You would think after so many years people would have gotten over this anti-Slytherin nonsense. In any event, maybe you can send her to one of those houses and get whatever this is squashed out of her. I've heard rumors that abuse can turn witches to squibs because it traumatizes that part of the mind. Perhaps training her to think a certain way will cause your daughter to lose her ability to speak to snakes. Then everything will be just fine, and she can keep the snake as an amusing pet or something." The old woman trapped a piece of wispy hair behind her left ear, a nervous habit. She was afraid that she lay her words on too thickly. She hardly sounded believable now, but Mrs. Magelin still might be persuaded to see sense. If that girl still lived on the street, people would stop going to her shop because of her association with the Magelins. She had a business to think of, after all.

"Poppy, I don't reall—" Mrs. Magelin began.

"You're going to get hurt. Your husband will get hurt, and so will your daughter! Can't you see that she's only unharmed because of your respect around here? Once that runs out, she'll be a target. Maybe the adults won't get her themselves, but their children certainly will. And you can't keep her locked up here. She needs to be with kids, since she's getting older. Trust me, it's for the best."

"Thanks Poppy, and let me think about it. There _are_ places for children like her, right?"

"Of course! Do you think I'd want your poor daughter out on the street? She hasn't done anything wrong, and I don't think she's going to kill everyone on the street any time in the future. I just want to see her safe, and this isn't a place where she can feel that right now. Anyway, I'd better run before the assistants muck something up. I'll see myself out, no need to get up." The shopkeeper left, looking down at the ground. She prided herself on giving good advice, but his advice felt awful.

* * *

After the family had finished supper one night, Rae's mother approached her. She looked bigger, her mother noticed, though her birthday wouldn't be for another few months. March 13th, was a Friday when she was born, and it always seemed so magical to her. Her preschool told her it was good luck to be born on a Friday the 13th. However, it seemed that this day, October the 16th was very unlucky for such people, or for Rae at least. "Rae," her mother began. Her father looked at his toes.

"Yes, mummy? Would you like to hear what I learned today? It was special!" the girl announced.

Her mother sighed. "In a minute, sweetheart. Right now, I have to tell you something very important."

"You don't love me anymore," Rae said with certainty. Her heartbeat fluttered like a hummingbird's. Seat pooled on her palms, and she wiped them nervously on her pants.

"Not at all! We love you just as much as we did the day you were born, as we did the day you showed us your— special friend. It's just that… we've been hearing things from neighbors, and they're not very happy with us right now."

"That's what you and daddy fought about, right? How daddy's and your friends would be angry? Have they made you angry too?"

"Only at them," her father almost growled.

"What he means to say is that they're scared, and people do bad things when they're scared. Remember the time you broke the window with your magic when there was a thunderstorm?"

"Yes. But you weren't mad at me," she sniffed, immediately worried.

"And we're not now. But those people, they're like you were. They're frightened because they don't like snakes and they don't know you. They want us to send you away or they'll do it themselves. And they won't be very nice about it."

"Why don't they meet me?"

"They're already too scared, honey," her mother tried to use as many endearing words as possible when she spoke to her daughter about such serious matters. Already her lip was quivering. "Now dearest, we need you to go somewhere for a while. A really nice place. And we'll send you lots of letters and sweets if you want. It's like Hogwarts, but for little girls like you!"

Rae brightened as soon as her mother mentioned Hogwarts. She thought she wouldn't be allowed to attend. "I love Hogwarts! Will I love this place too?" she asked with her eyes as big as saucers.

"Of course. And we'll send you owls all the time if you start to miss us. And we have a mirror that lets you talk to us whenever you need to. Okay?"

"Okay, mummy. When do I get to go?" She was truly excited now; leaving to go to wizarding school was something of which she had always dreamed.

"When would you like to leave?" her father asked meekly.

"Right now!" she exclaimed.

"How about we wait a bit, since we won't see you again for a while. Can you wait until tomorrow?" her father asked her, hiding the sadness in his voice. "It was for her own good," he convinced himself, "Better her away than dead."

"Okay. But first thing. Promise?" she held up her small pinky finger. Her mother shook it, as did her father, remembering the days when such things constituted an eternal promise.

"Now honey, go on up and get yourself ready for bed. We love you, and we'll give you a kiss goodnight when you come down to go to sleep."

"Yes, mummy," the little girl chanted obediently. She raced up the stairs, and the shower water ran like what Mr. Magelin thought sounded like tears falling in quick succession.

"Remember to wash behind your ears!" her mother shouted. Her daughter's response was muffled by the sound of the water rushing through their pipes.

When Mrs. Magelin left the room to check if Rae had actually bothered to wash behind her ears, her father called to the snake, as he had heard his daughter do before. He made a complicated hissing noise, and the snake appeared almost immediately, its head seemingly cocked in confusion. The man, so giant compared to the snake, looked down upon him and rubbed the faint stubble on his chin. "I know you can't understand me, God what am I even saying? The stupid snake won't even understand me!" He closed his eyes for a few moments, and tried to speak to the snake again, even if the words were mostly for his own benefit. "I need you to protect her. She's going to that house of Slytherins. You probably know the one. Anyway, she's leaving us, and I don't want her to. I said to let the neighbors talk, let them threaten us, but my wife, she doesn't want anything to even think about threatening our little girl. So, we're letting her go. Please protect her, keep her safe. Other children will be bigger than her by far. And some will be mean, and others still will be nice with selfish intentions. Just because she can speak Parseltongue, doesn't mean she'll be Slytherin. I don't want to see her become one, and I trust you to help." He wondered for a moment exactly how much good he could do by asking a snake to keep her out of the house of serpents at Hogwarts, but pushed that thought away. Thoughts like that could be saved for a rainy day three years in the future, after his daughter had been decidedly sorted into Gryffindor. He put his head in his hands, "My own daughter, sentenced to exile by my friends—" his voice broke, "She hasn't even been sorted into Slytherin yet! She could be a Ravenclaw, or a Hufflepuff!" He buried his head even further, no longer realizing he was speaking to the snake. "No matter how strong I get, I'll never be able to keep her with me." And with that, he left the room. The snake was utterly confused.


	2. Chapter 2

Rae paled the moment she saw the Slytherin house. "Mummy, what is this? This isn't Hogwarts."

"Of course not. Hogwarts is for big kids. Eleven year old kids. You're still little. But when you graduate from here, you get to go to Hogwarts."

"Ooooh. Okay. Do all kids go here first?"

"No. This is just for the special children like— y-you." Her voice broke on the last word.

The little girl, just barely old enough to comprehend that she was leaving her parents, hugged her mother around the waist. "Don't worry, mummy. I'll be fine! I love you." She turned to her father, "I love you too, daddy. I'll see you for Christmas and Boxing Day!" Her parents hugged her back and left for the car to grab her suitcases. Though the Slytherin House's residents typically did not leave for Thanksgiving breaks, or breaks of any other sort, the Magelins had made an exception. There was no need to leave their daughter at school for the full year. The neighbors could condone a Parselmouth in the neighborhood for limited amounts of time, and they had promised to place protective spells around the house and yard. "Why couldn't they have let us keep her with protective spells around the house and yard?" Mrs. Magelin wondered, but she already knew the answer. The neighbors would be ashamed to have a Parselmouth in their portion of town. It was a menace to their oh-so-precious social order. They would be ostracized by friends or relatives in all-Gryffindor towns or even in towns with the three 'good' houses mixed in harmony. Tears welled in the mother's eyes, suddenly weary as an old woman's, crumpled and burdened by what she had endured for the last three months. And deep inside she had known this would happen, since her daughter hissed her first word at three months old, but just denied it. Pent up feelings threatened to release themselves now, but she held them in; her daughter would not be scared away from her only safe haven.

Mr. Magelin had not spoken a single world since they arrived. He had driven the car in silence and opened the door in a manner somewhat becoming a chauffeur. His disapproved wholeheartedly of this decision, and yet he knew it must be made. He hugged his daughter goodbye in silence, a tearless parting of ways. His wife was much less composed. He dragged her away from their daughter, and he could feel his wife's knuckles bite onto his hand as she tried to reach back for her. "You're just making things harder on her," he whispered, and she tried to compose herself. Mrs. Magelin looked back at Rae, the only calm one in a situation where she was too "ignorant" to be upset. Mr. Magelin drew out every action, and slowly folded himself into what now seemed too large a car. He only let a tear escape far down the road from Slytherin House, and only when he thought his wife couldn't see. Of course, she caught the liquid running down his face, but didn't say anything about it, too wrapped up was she in her own despair. Though they would see their daughter in only two months for Christmas, it felt as if they were losing her forever. And perhaps they were; they had no clue.

The Slytherin House was an hour's drive away from any town on a map of Great Britain. The bricks crumbled off the sides into a few scattered heaps on the lawn. Teachers checked the roof every day to make sure the charms keeping it fixed to the bricks still held. A group of abandoned bricks formed the fence of the garden, where the students practiced making potions. Protective enchantments engulfed the building and surrounding area to "keep threats from harming the precious children." The matrons simply didn't want children running for their lives every other day and kept the grounds under close supervision. As Rae walked, alone, to the peeled door at the front of the manor, she saw a simple crest bearing Slytherin's emblem. The door swung wide.

A firm looking matron stood at the edge of the door. Her face wasn't merely disapproving; it had a glint of something akin to hatred and also to disappointment. Rae hoped the disappointment was directed at herself for hating a small child, but she doubted it. The matron bustled down a series of corridors. Rae expected suits of armor and portraits, just like Hogwarts. She saw linoleum floors and fluorescent lighting. The building looked like a grotesque cross between a Muggle school and St. Mungo's. She could see the woman's shoes reflecting off the tile as she looked down at her toes: bright red with gold trim.

_"Mama, why would you give me the blue ribbon?" Rae asked, squirming._

_Her mother attempted to adjust the ribbon on her fidgeting daughter's head, "Because it matches your dress."_

_"But red and gold match everything, mama! Those are the Light colors."_

_Rae's father entered the room, holding one of Rae's many red ribbons. "Right you are!" He presented the ribbon to his wife as if it were a great honor, "Would you like to bestow this beautiful specimen of a hair ribbon onto our beautiful daughter?" he said in his mock-serious voice. _

_Mrs. Magelin chuckled and took the ribbon. _

The memory ended, and Rae saw an unfamiliar hallway which branched off several other hallways, which probably branched off another few confusing hallways, which branched into a maze of stony faced matrons in aprons and a place she definitely didn't call home. The matron stopped at one door and opened it with a small key in her pocket. She left without a word.

Rae laughed bitterly at the number on the door: 666. She looked around the hallway, and all the rooms had the same number. The numbers were written with brass snakes, and their faces looked distorted in pain. Rae turned away from the snake's agony and instead focused on her own. "Why am I even here?" she asked herself quietly as she stepped through the threshold to her new room.

"Because your parents are morons."

Rae let the subject drop.

Settled in her room, Rae curled into a ball and tried not to look at anything. She couldn't use the windows; there were none. She couldn't distract herself with toys; Slytherin House forbade any outside entertainment. She tried to point out interesting specks on the worn, wooden floor, but that could only last about seven minutes. It took a few minutes after seven to realize the specks were multiplying, and that they came from her eyes. Rae thought she knew what weeping felt like before. A couple tears shed when she scraped her knees or when her mother chastised her deserved their merit, but they couldn't be called weeping. She knew true crying now: the feeling that something hard sat on her chest, and all the crying in the world could never relieve it or the persistent knot in her throat. Sobs racked her small frame when she thought of her father's face. He hadn't met her eyes, even as he got into his car to leave her standing alone on the pavement. She took a few shuddering gasps to calm herself. They did nothing but stop the flow for a couple second.

She could never cry in front of her parents; they would be too sad and wouldn't do what was best for her. She never knew why it was best, just that it was because her mother said it was so. For adults, the grown witches and wizards with whom she'd known since she could remember, the magic and confidence they exuded created God-like facades, at least to a wide-eyed child. She trod carefully around them, even her parents sometimes, for they must know everything to accompany their infinite power. In the same room as her snake, who had no supernatural influence whatsoever in her eyes, she could break down her carefully constructed walls. Walls of steel coated outside with sugar, the sugar her parents saw but she never tasted, hidden behind the steel. Yet as they broke, she tasted no sweetness, nothing but the bitter taste of loneliness. She hissed quietly, knowing her snake had come with her. He poked his head out of a sock in her suitcase.

"Your father spoke to me," he said.

She smiled. Her father was a Parselmouth too, it seemed.

"I could not understand a word of it; he spoke in your alien tongue."

All pleasant thoughts ceased.

"Look on the bright side. There will be many new children here. You will make friends, and I will make friends with their snakes. They are like you, and you are like them. Trust me, this will turn out fine." He tried to make his words as simple as possible so as to resonate with the now sniveling child.

She took her face out of her hands. "I'll try, Snakey, but I don't want to mess up. I always make things go bad."

"'Badly,' dear," he said with as much affection in his hiss as he could. "Now look, you have your own room, you have me, and now you merely have to make friends. These kids have been hardened by their circumstances, however. They have lived without parents for too long, some of them. You must be quiet, discreet, like a snake."

"What happens if I do something wrong?"

"Potentially nothing, potentially a lot. If things get really out of control, I will protect you."

"Okay."

"Let us go."

"Not yet," she said, petting him on the head. "I think I can wait a little while before making friends. I need to be sly, like you said. I need to think about this." The snake, nodded, impressed at her deductive reasoning, especially for an eight-year-old. Most children her age would be learning how to pick up toys without being asked or add small numbers in their heads. Perhaps they would read their first chapter books. Most children would be learning to spell their name in cursive, and they would learn to write complex sums. But they would not learn how to move through a crowd unnoticed, eat in silence without feeling lonely, make a friend with someone who was inherently distrustful. Yet Rae would, because she must.

The next morning, after a restless sleep, moving between the bed, the floor, and the bed again, Rae finally decided she could lay on her dresser no longer. She wasn't exactly sure how she landed _there_, as she hadn't made the conscious decision to do so, but her snake said she was so worried her uncontrolled power levitated her there during the night.

Someone rapped on the door. Rae told the person to enter, weakly, immediately forgetting she was perched on top of a dresser. A large girl entered the room, at least five foot nine and 150 pounds. Her muscles rippled clearly below her white collared shirt and green tie. Even her coarse, brown hair looked like it could do pushups if asked. She regarded Rae's green nightgown, the one her parents had purchased for her along with an entirely green wardrobe so she would make friends at Slytherin House. She nodded in approval and reached out her arms to let her down.

Recent experiences taught Rae better than to accept help from a stranger. It was strangers who had forced her parents into bringing her to Slytherin House, and if she wanted to go home, it was strangers who would keep her away. But the girl persisted, a slight frown beginning to furrow her mouth and brow. "It's okay, I won't hurt you." Rae allowed herself to be lifted down from the dresser for fear of what would happen if she didn't. When she arrived on the ground safely, a smile broke across her face.

Mildred remembered a similar gap-toothed smile from when she was little. Her parents used to take her to the beach, and she still had a few pictures of her with that expression and a couple giant ice cream cones. Of course, no one at Slytherin House knew about those pictures under her mattress. Families weren't something people remembered, if they could help it. Good parents didn't abandon their children, even if they were screwed up by some fluke of nature. "I'm not even related to Salazar Slytherin!" a voice in Mildred's head yelled for the millionth time that morning, as it did every morning. She remembered actual relatives, her cousins, none of whom looked particularly like this small girl in front of her, but all of whom had the same innocence. They all became "dutiful Hufflepuffs" in time. Mildred wondered bitterly where the family loyalty went when she started speaking to snakes. Apparently, the Hufflepuffs didn't find that worthy of their loyalty. Mildred shook the insides of her head to clear her thoughts without making her look like a deranged dog. She looked down at the small girl again. Only a couple seconds had passed. "There, that's better isn't it?"

"Yes, thank you." Rae's tone was oddly formal for someone so young, the large girl noted. However, it would suit her well here; the only place where blood and manners mattered anymore. The girl corrected herself: with all the true Slytherins dead or in hiding, there wasn't much blood anymore.

"Are you a Parselmouth?" the large girl asked.

Rae bit her lip.

"If you're trying to keep a secret, you're going to need to be more discreet than that. It's fine that you are one, anyway. Almost all of us are. May I see your snake?" she asked.

Rae nodded, completely mute, to this girl who had acted more like a parent in the last few minutes than her father had when he left her. The snake slithered out from under the dresser. The large girl looked around the room for a minute before realizing the girl only had possession of one snake, and a small one at that. She repressed the sudden urge to laugh. The girl was only eight, she reminded herself.

The snake looked at her as if he could read her thoughts. "Laugh at her, and I bite you. I do not care if she is small. I do not care if I carry no poison. I do not care if I am small. You will pay if you hurt her," he hissed.

Rae slipped her finger over his tongue at the last few words. He shook his tail in protest, but made no further move to antagonize the large girl. "Sorry," she muttered.

"It's fine, and I'll teach you how to get around here. I like you, kid. You'll be fine."

Rae nodded curtly. "What's your name?"

"Mildred. Just Mildred. I have no last name, so don't ask about it."

Rae nodded again. "I'm Rae. I have a last name," she said innocently, not quite sure if she should share her name or not, but seeing no reason why she shouldn't.

"What's your last name?" Mildred asked, predictably.

"Magelin."

Mildred sighed, letting her breath out in a hissing noise to further exaggerate her agitation. _"What?"_ She took a deep, steadying breath before continuing, "I wouldn't go around sharing that name if I were you. Big Gryffindor family. You don't live in Godric's Hollow, do you?"

Rae shook her head.

"Good. Kids here, they hate anything associated with Gryffindor. To be honest, it's mostly jealousy, and don't tell anyone I told you that. We all have Slytherin pride, but it gets old seeing families that don't love us and an entire country dead set on proving that we're all training to become Dark Lords. Personally, I think it's a dumb idea to keep us all in this house where we could plot with each other, but I'm not in charge. If I were, I probably wouldn't have these problems to even consider. Anyway, back to my point. Can it when people ask you about your roots. You came from nothing. You were an orphan in a house for normal wizard children until the matrons learned what you could do. Okay?"

Rae nodded her head, instantly afraid of this tall girl, one who knew such incriminating knowledge.

"Don't worry; I won't hurt you. I told you, I like you. I don't know why, but you're lucky I do. You'd be dead if not for me."

Rae's snake hissed at that thought, as if he believed he could defend her against the other children, and their much larger snakes. Mildred almost let a chuckle escape through her lips. It had been a long time since she felt that happy. Knowing that snakes often resembled the people they chose to be with, she knew the girl would eventually be this humorous. She hoped so anyway; most of the kids lost their wit within a week.

Mildred, after assuring the snake she would not harm the young girl, led the two of them down the hall to the door of the dining area. It was large, wooden, and had a brass knocker in the middle ready for visitors. Rumors circulated through the students that a descendent of Salazar Slytherin would drop dead if he touched it. The snake, coiled around the young girl's neck, hissed words of reassurance in her ear. "You will not fail. You have made an ally already, and you have been here only a few hours. You will be safe here, more safe than you were with your parents."

The mere mention of her parents initiated another round of silent tears that trickled down her face like small streams. The snake wondered between bouts of concern if it were possible for humans to create puddles with their tears. Her snake was glad Mildred had kept her eyes forward, and that the halls to the dining room were deserted. "I am sorry, Rae. But you must not cry. Cry when you are alone or with friends. Snakes and humans alike take advantage of the weak. You may not show them this about you, only me. Tears leave evidence; be sure you keep them under lock and key."

Rae, with remarkable control for an eight-year-old, ceased her crying completely. Mildred, hearing the garter's words, had the good sense to keep her eyes forward. Looking back at Rae only when the party had reached the dining room, she was glad to see her eyes were dry, if only a little red. "This is the dining room. Everyone gathers here for lunch and supper, which start at precisely noon and six. You are excused for tardiness because you are new and I for escorting you." Her tone was much more formal now that they could be overheard by other children or adults, though Rae had not seen any. "Children here act according to strict protocol. We do not speak to others except in confidence. The dining room is a silent place. Adults eat with us, which probably why we stay so quiet. Teachers at Hogwarts visit during the summers, and in the winter we have matrons to look after us. It's better to be overheard by a matron than a Hogwarts teacher. It's bad enough getting sent to Slytherin already; I would hate to have a teacher hate me by the time I got there." Mildred cracked a quick smile, "Kapeesh?"

"How does my snake eat? Will he sit at the table with me? He can't go outside and eat mice anymore."

"He'll eat at the table. Snakes here are considered people, the only place in Britain where they are. At Hogwarts, snakes are forbidden from eating anything within the school building; they must slither onto the grounds to catch a meal. Unfortunately, this has led to the death of many a snake by some rather…" Mildred paused to choose a mild enough adjective, "violent Gryffindors. You ready?"

Rae shook her head.

"Good. Let's go."

Rae was incredibly confused. She had told Mildred she wasn't ready to enter the large, frightening room. However, it needed to be done, and it was better to finish sooner than later, so she followed as Mildred pushed open the door.

The cavernous room held four long tables, like the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Unlike Hogwarts, the ceiling didn't show the sky. Instead, it depicted a mural of wizards defeating snakes. Rae didn't mind to see the snakes being cursed down, since she knew they were only paintings, but she looked away at the snake strapped to a rack that would stretch him apart. The artist hadn't forgotten a single detail, not even the dark red of old bloodstains. Rae looked, instead to the banners hanging in front of the tables. Each banner was green with a silver serpent, similar to the Slytherin Crest. Each banner varied slightly: the greens ranged from a pastel green to an emerald green. For certain crests, the silver snake seemed to shine more, particularly the crest with an emerald green backdrop. "Why are the banners different?"

"Like Hogwarts, Slytherin House has houses, to try and get us used to the fact that we'll be in an unloved, unwanted house. The warring in these houses is similar to that in Hogwarts, but much harsher. None of us have wands because we're younger than eleven, but we all have snakes." Rae shuddered.

"Do I get sorted?"

"No. None of the houses has a quality different than any other. It's random, partly, and it also has to do with who likes you. Someone has to vouch for you, or you get put into the house with the lowest number of people. Usually that's a bad thing because no one ever wants to be in the house with the kelly green crest."

"What's so bad about that one?"

"It's had a reputation for being a lousy house, so no one wants to be in it. And because no one wants to be in it, no one who's talented gets put there anymore, which makes the house look progressively worse."

"What's vouching mean?"

"Well, you stand in front of the dining hall, and the person in charge asks if anyone will vouch for you. That means that someone will guarantee that you'll do well. People tend to vouch for kids with big snakes or kids who look really strong. You don't."

"So I'll be in the kelly green house?" Rae looked down at her shoes.

"No, I'll vouch for you."

Rae's face broke into a large grin, the only one she'd had since she arrived at Slytherin House. "Thank you," she said, too honored and too naïve to question the reason behind Mildred's obvious preference for her.

A stern looking witch, wearing robes of flowing scarlet to perfectly match her scarlet hat, stood at the front of the dining hall. The trim was gold and fringed the edges of both hat and robe. Clearly, this woman favored Gryffindor, even in Slytherin House. Perhaps she hoped her influence would rub off on the young Slytherins, who hadn't fully developed into the evil they were fated to become.

The children remained raucous, perhaps even louder as she stood to delay the inevitable: another lecture from a retired Gryffindor alumnus. "Settle yourselves." Her voice reverberated through the room. The voice could create an undercurrent of kindness, but kindness was far from her words when in the presence of these children.

The children continued in their talk.

"I said to settle yourselves, you worthless pieces of snake scum!" The room fell into a hush. A goblet clattered to the floor.

"Now, we have another resident to Slytherin House. Will she please step forward to begin her opening ceremony?" Her voice traveled in sickly sweet waves across the room. A couple students flinched at the awful sound. At the word "ceremony," a couple of the older students rolled their eyes at the head's audacity to compare events in Slytherin House with the Sorting Ceremony at Hogwarts.

Mildred pushed Rae forward. Rae, her snake slithering behind her as she approached the woman, trembled visibly with each step. Students began whispering about her in the isles, and it was hard to ignore the repeated talk of her weaknesses: her size, her small snake, her frail looking bones, her timid stride. Still, she kept her head high as she passed the rows of tables, the epitome of a snake's pride. The snake, though believed to be deceitful in manner, had remarkable hubris in the face of humiliation.

There was no stool at the front of the room, no pleasant Sorting Hat to whisper in her ear. The woman bent to pick up her snake and hold it before her for all to see every aspect of the small child. Rae gasped in unison with her snake as he was manhandled. It felt like a terrible invasion of privacy to both of them. She glowered at the woman, who appeared not to notice. The snake tried to escape her grip, but she held him fast as he writhed. "Who will vouch for this pair?"

The room was silent, without even the sound of cutlery scraping a plate. Each student stared at the woman, wide-eyed, and waiting. Each student was too afraid to take the risk of allowing this girl into hir or her house, afraid she could hurt the limited honor they dared to possess. Suddenly, Mildred stood from where she had seated herself in the back right corner of the room. "I vouch for the child," she said clearly. All heads turned simultaneously, their attention focused on her. She held their gaze, unblinking, unflinching, and returned the ogles of the Gryffindor woman.

"Very well. Emerald House, this child belongs to you. Her failures will be your failures, and her successes will be your successes." Her eyes clearly portrayed how unlikely she thought a success from Rae would be. As Rae stood at the top of the platform, no one clapped. Mildred motioned for Rae to take a seat next to her, and Rae fairly sprinted to her seat, almost tripping over herself in the process. More than a few members of Emerald House rolled their eyes.

Small bowls of food dotted the emerald green tablecloth. The meal was modest, small, and clearly not cooked with any sort of finesse. "We get the best food of all the houses, for now. If we don't do well, we don't get good food." She motioned to the kelly green house, who sat sullenly, glaring at their nearly empty plates, each containing a stale heel of bread and a piece of gristle-filled meat. They did not receive any vegetables or fruit. Every other house seemed to have an amount of food between the two extremes.

"And we don't need to change that fact. So keep your head down, eat your food, and let us earn it," said another member of Emerald House, a burly child, at least five feet tall, though he looked no older than ten. His snake was a large python, poisonous as well as constricting.

"Dawson," Mildred chided, "Be quiet. I chose her for a reason. She has promise."

"What, is her snake incredibly poisonous?" he asked with some sort of genuine interest.

"I cause the enemy to think I'm weak. They try to take advantage of me. Then, those who are stronger and better take advantage of their lapse in guard. Simple really." Rae said this simply, trying to make her words look as effortless as possible, though they did not come from her mind. Her snake had hissed the words in her ear as she said them, for she was too young to understand concepts of inter-house battle.

"Ah, intelligence. Good choice. Too often the smart children are chosen by Pastel House. Hey, where does your snake come from again, anyway? He shouldn't be from around here, right?"

Qimat continued whispering in her ear, "A British family found his parents on a trip to America and brought them overseas to be a pet for their son. The climate is very similar, so his family could survive there. When he was born, the parents released him into their garden, and he eventually made it into mine." The snake hissed in Rae's ear again, "What does this house system entail?" Rae, not knowing what entail meant but understanding his meaning for the most part, asked the question she too had been wondering.

Dawson began, clearly about to launch into a lecture, "We are pitted against one another in games such as Capture the Flag, football, bobsledding, all sorts of Muggle sports. These games sound lighthearted, and they are in the Muggle world. It just so happens that when you put a group of angry kids together who have uncontrollable magical powers… let's just say, accidents happen. We also have Muggle schooling, just as normal wizard children do until they reach eleven. The house that performs the best wins nutritious meals and clean sheets for the year. Second, third, and last place is also awarded. Emerald House was in second a few years ago. We did not enjoy the lack of fruit in our diet. Many of us suffered from scurvy until we found a small farm stand that would give us their rotten fruit about a mile away from here. True, the fruit was rotten, but if we ate around the really bad parts, we wouldn't get too sick, most of the time."

Rae had never heard of scurvy, but from the way Dawson spoke about it, she gathered that it was definitely bad. "Why do bad things happen here? We're supposed to learn how to survive in Hogwarts. We shouldn't fight."

"They," Mildred swiveled her head to the headmistress and around to a couple other teachers, "say we need to be trained to deal with the fighting at Hogwarts. But I think that the rest of the world just wants to keep us locked away from 'civilized company.' However, Slytherin casualties have decreased since Slytherin House got started. By making us pariahs, the wizarding world has given us weapons." Rae could see a glint in Mildred's eye that was more than a little malicious.

The snake had been silent for quite some time, listening to Dawson's explanation and his child's own response. Her innocence, her inherent goodness, he hoped would not be destroyed come five years from now when she entered Hogwarts. From the style and challenges of this place, she could lose her innocence the following day. He had already begun to notice a difference in the way she spoke. There was more caution, much less carefree happiness devoted solely to making a mudpie or playing in the weeds. And when she smiled, it didn't reach her eyes. He would have to speak to her tonight.

But the snake could not find his chance until very late that evening as Rae, being part of a house, was moved into another room. Because there weren't too many Slytherins in Great Britain between the ages of four and ten, especially with four houses, the entire house shared two rooms where they could sleep, one for the boys and one for the girls. The losing house lost even that small privacy; the living quarters were divided by a ragged sheet and half the members were forced to sleep on the floor. After Mildred had carried Rae's sparse belongings to the room they would share, she told Rae about their classes and upcoming events she would need to learn about to survive. It was around midnight when Mildred finally fell asleep.

Rae curled into a ball and hugged her knees to her small chest. She couldn't think about her parents, or she would lose it. She didn't want her house to hear her sobbing; Mildred would regret vouching for her, and they would lose points if a matron caught her. She buried her face deep into what she pretended was a feather pillow. She couldn't even look outside a window to find a star to wish on. Slytherin House didn't believe in letting children wish on stars, apparently. Before she realized what she was doing, her small fist connected with the metal headboard just above her. "Well that was a lousy idea," Rae hiccoughed between sobs and sucking on her knuckles.

"Rae?" asked her snake.

"Yes?" she answered shakily while trying desperately to maintain her composure.

"My name is Qimat." The snake seemed to hope that his name would solve all her problems, at least for the night. Apparently names of pets did nothing to ease the sorrow of little girls. Qimat tucked that knowledge away for further use.

"Thank you, Qimat. Goodnight." Rae shut her eyes, clearly awake.

"There is something else about which I need to converse with you."

Rae pretended to yawn, her mouth a pink o, but kept her eyes open. "Okay, Snakey."

The snake smiled; it felt like she hadn't called him Snakey in too long of a time. "My name, Qimat, means valuable. But I am not valuable to anyone; I am valuable to you alone, as it should be. I will always protect you here, Rae, every second of every day. You are called here by your talents, and the world expects you to grow too fast. I will prevent this as best I can. You shall not worry about concerns besides trying your hardest whilst you are here. Anyone tries to hurt you, and I will be there first. Your father, I think he told me he wanted this for you. You are destined for something, I can tell, but I am not quite sure what it is. You must let me protect you and love you as I always have. Our bond, I believe, is stronger than many between snake and human. Though it is not the strongest, it can be if we allow it to be. Already we can feel each other's emotions. If we continue this path, you could accomplish something great. Though your dreams now may be small, they will grow to be as large and numerous as the distant stars. Do not hinder such dreams by worries of practicality. My dreams had ended long ago; I will worry for you. Sleep well, Rae, for tomorrow, we begin anew."

Qimat looked down at the little child, all traces of worry cleared from her face for the first time in what seemed like ages. But, as he noticed quickly, it was because she was asleep, already dreaming her tiny dreams. She only heard the first few words of what he had said, but, he thought, "If she can feel safe enough to fall asleep to the sound of my voice, my duty is half finished."

_Rae ran through a field of grass, whispering in the slight breeze that covered her eternal garden. She could never be sure how she created this place that only appeared late into the night, but she knew it was important she do whatever she felt was right. Turning, jumping, and flopping onto the grass, in tonight's adventure. She saw the clouds above her contort themselves into shapes, magical shapes. A wand, a wizard's hat, a cauldron with its contents simmering over an imagined fire. But the most magical shape she saw, the only one she ever remembered, was the snake. For all its negative qualities, Rae believed the snake to be a protector, as it was believed in ancient mythology. The world viewed snakes as deceitful, bringers of pestilence and evil, overly pompous and proud creatures. But a belief in the snake as guardian of the sacred had existed throughout history. The snake, too, had been believed to be a symbol of freedom, an animal untamed by human will. And as Rae watched the snake merge with the other items of magic, she saw a world where the free snake could protect wizardry, keep it from destruction, as it was meant to do in years past. _

_Though Voldemort was a Slytherin, were there not Death Eaters from other houses? Was Peter Pettigrew not from Gryffindor? And yet, only Slytherins were punished in the years following the war. Only Slytherins were imprisoned, exterminated, and left in the dust to try and pick up the pieces of a once-great civilization. But no one fought back, for a seed had been planted in the minds of every good Slytherin: perhaps all Slytherins are evil, perhaps we are evil, and perhaps we deserve our current treatment. _

When the snake degenerated in a white puff of imagined cloud, Rae's eyes opened. Her bed felt hard and cold against her small body. When she woke, as with every morning following her subconscious mind's desires, she had forgotten.

Her young mind couldn't hold thoughts of the freedom her people would never have.


	3. Chapter 3

On a chilly day, late in November, when few children had begun to leave for the homes that cared to take them, Rae received a letter from her family's owl. The ball of feathers flapped its wings pathetically, not unlike most owls that arrived in Slytherin House. The wards placed around the building for protection didn't enjoy letting owls through, and usually gave them a small shock as they passed through. Mildred suspected that the matrons would stop at nothing to sever familial ties with Parselmouths, which included injuring their owls. The letter was short, briefer than Rae's last; letters from home had been decreasing with every missive sent. It seemed as if her parents were writing to her out of formality. Yet, reading the contents of this letter, it seemed all formality had been dropped.

_Dear Miss Rae,_

_You will not be spending the Christmas holidays with us, or any other holiday for that matter. Your brother, Jerrod, has convinced us that you will be safer at Slytherin House. Besides, a Parselmouth returning to the neighborhood after such a ceremonious exit would quite a sight for the neighbors. Slytherin House keeps children over the summer, and we have arranged for you to stay there as well. Many children have chosen to live in Slytherin House of their own accord, and we hope you see their mindset soon. It's better that you remain with people of your own kind._ Rae sniffed at this part; her mother thought she was almost a different brand of human. _In addition, you will no longer receive any letters from home. It must be a sight of embarrassment for you to open letters from a Gryffindor family at a place where Gryffindors are disdained so. (Though, I must say, the same occurs for us. Your poor brother flushed deep red when he opened a letter from us merely concerning you. Imagine what you would put him through if he actually received a letter from you, or if we continued to, for that matter!) The entire family, including Jerrod, hopes you are well, and wishes you a Happy Christmas. Enjoy your time at Slytherin House, and we will contact them to see if they keep children who are attending Hogwarts over the summer, for when you attend the famous school of witchcraft and wizardry in the future._

_- Agatha Magelin_

Rae had never read her mother's first name before. Reading the letter and recognizing her tone used for people she strongly disliked, she knew almost immediately where she stood in her family. She leaned back in her chair, appearing to be satisfied by her pitiful plate of eggs. Only her eyes betrayed the hurt she felt from being lowered to the standard of the witches her mother had written angry letters to and then thrown away because she thought they were too harsh. Clearly, no such harshness had been spared. "Or if any had been, how harsh was the letter on its first draft?" she thought, crumpling the letter and lobbing it at the rubbish bin.

Her snake smiled and arched his back as he felt his scales return to him. He had been losing everything: his scales, his eyesight, his tongue's flexibility, his sense of taste. Rae, becoming increasingly depressed as her family's letters grew shorter and having a looser hold on her magic as a result, had allowed her snake to slip nearer to his true age. If she had let his degeneration continue, he would have been dead within weeks. This letter sparked an anger she had never seen in herself; her magic focused itself on every point that could be used as an outlet. "I see you have finally decided to care for me once more," Qimat said mildly.

"What are you talking about?" Rae asked, trying to suppress the anger in her voice and failing miserably.

"You do not know of what you do for me? Such a powerful witch to keep her familiar alive without knowing."

"Explain. Now. I'm not in the mood, Qimat. I'm really not." She sounded more like an exasperated thirty-year-old than an eight-year-old, but places such as Slytherin House often caused children to grow too quickly.

"You see, the average wild garter snake, as I am, lives for approximately two years. I should have been dead six years ago, but I am alive and well. At least I am well now, now that you are no longer depressed. You see, since you were two, you have been keeping me alive by transferring a small amount of magic into me constantly. Without it, I begin to wither away to the point of death. First I lose my scales, then my ability to eat, and then I die. My scales began to fall off at the beginning of last week."

Her anger at her parents continuing to flare, Rae spoke in a caustic manner. "I thought you had to have a Sorcerer's Stone like Harry Potter to make someone immortal."

"There are exceptions between a wizard or witch and his familiar, particularly if the wizard or witch is a Parselmouth. We have a far deeper bond than you realize. I could worm my way into your thoughts right now, if I so desired." Qimat blinked a couple times in an attempt to look like a human wriggling his eyebrows. It failed miserably.

"Don't you dare." Her tone sounded like ice being smacked against a metal surface. Qimat twitched slightly.

"I would not dream of it. The mind is a precious thing, not exactly an organ, but far more vital to the sentience, consciousness, and uniqueness of a living individual. If this sort of privacy in one's mind is lost, the mind could begin to unravel, leading to insanity. Why else would legilimency be considered to be a Dark Art?"

Her rage fading quickly now that she realized she could have killed her familiar, Rae spoke calmly. "I'm sorry I let your scales fall out. I didn't know."

"It is fine. Many witches and wizards begin to lose magical power when suffering from depression. For you to keep me alive at such a young age is a miracle in itself; asking you to keep me alive when you were suffering so much would be too great of a sacrifice on your part. I would die rather than see you stress your mind into chaos." Qimat laughed bitterly to himself. Of course he would rather live. His stupid self-preservation instincts dictated it. That, of course, didn't stop him from saying the most caring thing he could.

Rae twirled the snake through her fingers, for the first time since her last letter two weeks prior. He slithered among her five digits, and up her arm, like he used to when they made mudpies together in the garden. How long it seemed since then, how much she had grown since then, it was almost unbelievable. It was, to many students, frightening how quickly Rae lost her childhood innocence, becoming hard almost instantly. She acted nearly the same towards Mildred and Qimat, but to everyone else, she was shut down completely. She had much respect, but few friends.

"Qimat, I feel lonely," Rae said, almost too quiet to be heard.

"I know."

"But it hurts. And I don't like it. And I— I want to go home!" she trailed off at the end. The snake, too small and too reptilian to hold her, merely coiled itself once around her neck and tried to whisper soothing words in her ear. He couldn't stroke her hair and tell her life would be fine, because it wouldn't be. There was no one to stroke her hair, which was only part of why her life was in ruins. He thought it better to be honest and caring than build up Rae's hopes for an even worse breakdown in the future. For then she would have to face both the betrayal of her parents and his betrayal.

"It gets better," he cooed in her ear, almost like a verse from a poem.

"How would you kn-know?" she spluttered.

"My family is dead."

"You had a family?" She wiped her tears on her sleeve; it didn't feel right for her to be upset if Qimat's family was dead. At least hers were still living, though they hated her.

"I had a mate, and one offspring. Family life as a snake is far different than as a human. The bonds were nowhere near as strong. The bond between the two of us, even, is stronger than that in a snake's family. We instinctively flock to power; I was the exception. I flocked to the most helpless," Rae scowled, "but nicest witch I saw," she smiled, glad that she no longer looked upset at the breakfast table. "But when your magic began to flow into me, when you chose me as your familiar, I looked far younger than my mate. As you grew older, and I stayed the same, my mate died, and my appearance was youthful compared to that of my offspring, and now his offspring surely looks old compared to me. Yet, I continued on without them, for that is all one can do in such a situation. There is no time for grieving in my life, only work."

"That's terrible."

"Yes, but do not feel as if you can no longer be sad. The emotion is relative to the situation. A well-fed snake may be sad that he did not eat his complete fill for the day. However, the poor African snake, in a land where too many snakes fight over miniscule amounts of food, is cheerless because his five offspring have died from starvation, though he gave them all his food. Their sadness is the same, but are their tragedies? No. However, for someone who is, in the moment, experiencing something that is a tragedy in his or her life, even the smallest thing to you could be devastating to someone else. Compared to many, your situation is very grave. Your parents have disowned you, you live in a glorified version of an orphanage, and you will most likely be placed into the hated faction of your secondary school."

"You're really good at cheering people up, you know that?" Rae said with bitterness seeping into her voice.

"However," the snake hissed more loudly to keep her from continuing, "compared to children elsewhere who cannot receive a decent meal, they might kill for your life. Do not think of what I am saying as a lesson for you to stay happy. Be sad, for this is what you know as misery. Besides, if you spend time trying to keep from being sad, the emotions will build up and hurt you later when you most need to be happy. And you will be more angry then, not only at your parents, but at me, for not allowing you to express your feelings."

"Yes, but I think I'm finished crying for today. I've gotten my feelings off of my chest. Don't expect for me to be quite so distraught again. Like you said, there is no time for grieving, only work."

The snake sighed at her grossly distorted version of his message. However, she had released a few emotions, so the day was not a complete waste. And though he hated himself for it, he felt a sense of small joy at the single tear that fell from her eye.

* * *

Only five children went home for the holidays. Rae checked them off her mental list as she regarded them enviously.

"Rae, you're staring again," Mildred said, striding up to her in the dining hall.

Families reunited joyfully, only a few, but happy tears were still shed as children melted into their parents' protective arms. The same thing would be happening at King's Cross station, where her parents would be meeting Jerrod. She felt a surge of anger, and a couple of the families eyed her warily before scuttling away, like spiders fleeing from a basilisk.

Mildred practically dragged her away from the Emerald House table. "Cut it out! What's up with you today, anyway? Or every day for that matter? You were this sweet little kid when I first met you. I've been working hard to keep it that way, and it doesn't seem to be working. You've been here for what, three months, and you've turned into a robot or something!" Her chest was heaving out of frustration. Mildred hated to express her feelings like this, but she felt that if she didn't, Rae would suffer.

"Sorry, but you can't keep from it in a place like this." She flung the letter at Mildred. "Now tell me I have no reason to be hardened." She mentally punched herself for showing someone the letter, one which she had carried since it arrived a week ago.

Mildred's face flashed sadness before resuming the same stoic persona as her friend. "I see your point. Are you okay?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You should talk about it! You don't talk about things enough, not anymore. The first day, you burst into tears. Where's that kid? You're eight, Rae. Not fifty." Mildred hated being the one to tell her this. She needed to keep Rae in her protective shell. She would get hurt otherwise. And yet, Mildred felt the tears could only be an improvement to whatever Rae wanted to call how she lived.

"You think I didn't already talk it over with Qimat? You think I haven't cried about this? You think I'm so hard, so soulless, that I don't care when my parents write about how they can't love me anymore? Think again, Mildred." Rae's voice was as loud as possible without attracting attention from a professor. Children near her shifted their plates slightly, angling themselves away from her.

Shock betrayed itself upon Mildred's face. "I'm sorry, Mildred. I shouldn't have yelled like that," Rae said, bowing her head in shame.

"Yes you should have! It's the only emotion you've shown in weeks! You've had issues before you got that blasted letter. Get angry. Throw something at me. Throw something at the teachers for crying out loud. I don't care if we go on stale bread next year, at least you'll act like a human being."

Rae was stunned. Qimat poked his head out from under her sleeve where he'd coiled. His tongue flicked out menacingly. "Watch it, Mildred," he hissed.

"Clearly, you and your snake have more talking to do. I'll leave you to it," Mildred said before she stormed off to join her other friends.

Rae ran out of the dining hall, tearing past the teachers bringing breakfast eggs and toast with fruit for Emerald House, burnt bread for Kelly House. At least one of them looked shocked; their prized student was following disorderly conduct. They yelled at her to return, but she ignored them. The small backyard used for simple potionmaking, the only thing the wizarding community believed Slytherins to be able to perform without disgracing themselves, was her target. Reaching the scrub of grass that hadn't been destroyed by forcing six-year olds to create a hair-lengthening potion or some such concoction, Rae realized she hadn't gone far enough. Climbing the rusted chain mail fence, she leapt on to the thorn bushes below, holding out her hands to stick her landing. Rubbing the blood on her green rags, she sprinted away from Slytherin House, into the beach that flanked its east side. The sand caressed her toes, her fingers, her entire being as she lay in it, staring at the waves break the coast.

She looked to Qimat, and realized that he had fallen off as she jumped over the fence. Blood was still pouring profusely from the cuts on her hands; they looked quite deep. Yet, as she looked at them further, they appeared to be shrinking, disappearing into pink, angry lines that signified years of healing and clotting, scabbing and peeling. She laughed in spite of herself. The exercise seemed to have done what weeks of brooding had not: she felt free, for the first time since she arrived. She rolled onto her back, looking into the sky. The clouds she saw there did not twist themselves into amusing shapes, yet she felt just as gratified as she had in her dream. The sand in her hair, in her skin, under her nails, she couldn't care less. Perhaps that was why she was so happy. A child again, waiting for her mother to chide her about getting filthy. Of course, there was no mother here, but the feeling of childhood glory was still present.

"I might as well," the mumbled to herself before jumping up and running headlong into the waves. She was glad that the wards extended a mile into the sea, or she'd be flat on her back. The water was frigid as it rushed over Rae's; it was November in northern England. Their first snowfall was five days prior. Yet, as the icy water swirled around her, it cleared her head, defined her purpose. She would be a pawn no longer; she just needed a time to strike.

* * *

She woke three days later in her bed. To the side of her was Mildred, presently fussing over fluffing her pillow and piling yet another blanket on her thin frame. As soon as she saw Rae awake, Mildred ran over and hugged her. Rae could tell she nearly whooped at the sight of her open eyes.

"Don't you ever do that again," she said, without any real disapproval in her tone.

"Sorry," Rae said, and frowned. Her voice was scratchy.

"You know, you didn't start drowning. I didn't know you could swim like that. It was pretty fantastic; you made it back to the coast before you passed out. But your lack of body fat and the water temperature left you practically frozen by the time I brought you back to the House. Anyway, sorry I got angry."

"You had a right."

"Yeah, but you're eight. You're dealing with a lot of crap for your age. Most kids don't learn they're Parselmouths until they're nine or older. I don't know why you're different, but I feel for you." Mildred didn't feel the need to explain that she knew she had been a Parselmouth from a very young age; it would negate her point.

"Thank you."

"Don't get all formal with me. That's how this whole thing got started. Why did you go out there anyway? If you needed to work something out, you could have done it just as well in here talking to Qimat." "Because I was too busy being angry at you to help," she added to herself with an annoying twinge to her conscience.

"Sorry." Rae began in ragged breaths, "Too tired to say more than small sentences. I just felt like I needed to leave for a bit."

"You good, then?"

"For now." Rae sighed. Something drastic would need to be done soon; she had never realized that the system could be changed, only that it was flawed.

"You're plotting."

"I am?" Rae tried to compose her face into a mask of perfect innocence, which would ordinarily be easy. However, for someone who knew her so well, it was only another sign of her scheming.

"Seriously, tell me. We're the only ones here. And honestly, what could it hurt? I vouched for you; if you get kicked out, I get punished, big time."

"And you'll get punished more if you know about it. They have veritaserum you know."

"Like I'm stupid enough to drink anything they give me directly after a friend gets in trouble. What do you take me for, Rae? Someone from Kelly House? Give me a break." She carefully neglected to mention that the professors tying her to a chair and forcing it down her throat if they suspected anything was quite probable.

"They could force it down your—" Rae stopped, "All right. I have nothing definite yet, but we need to fix the system."

"No kidding, Sherlock."

"I'm serious! We could do some serious damage! That is, if we got enough kids to help."

"You do realize you sound like an idealistic eight year old, right?"

"I _am_ eight."

"Which is the only reason why I haven't slapped you!" Mildred said, chuckling.

"And why won't it work?" Rae asked, the look on her face nearly priceless as she watched Mildred's face turn from confused to frustrated to enlightened.

"Actually, you are kind of right. Except, wait, no you're not. Other kids who aren't your friends won't do this, and you can't make a change if you're only two people. You'll just get two kids thrown out on the street and no one will take us! And then we'll be stuck out here with no wands, no formal magic training, a garter snake, and my snake."

"You have a snake? I haven't seen it."

"We all have snakes, and you haven't seen it because you haven't asked," Mildred replied. "Here. Soraya!" The last word was a hiss, but the distinction between Parseltongue and English had become second nature to Rae.

A very small snake, poked its head out of her sleeve. "How didn't you notice him? He sleeps on my pillow," Mildred said.

"Your curtains were always drawn."

The snake was brown, with a commonly known design. It was nearly the same length as her snake, yet it held itself in a much less intimidating way. The theory that snakes reflected the person to whom they bonded didn't seem very accurate with this pairing.

"Quite venomous, the copperhead. Not indigenous to this region either, though yours isn't either," Mildred said, pursing her lips.

"Just because they aren't normally found in England doesn't mean you can't find one," Rae reminded her.

"Very true. I wonder if they have Parselmouths in America? You said your snake was from North America, right?"

"Yes, and I doubt there isn't a place on the planet without at least _one_ Parselmouth." Rae completely forgot that Parselmouths were originally regarded as descendents of Slytherin and Slytherin alone.

"Anyway, you appear to have gotten better at deflecting from things, like this plan we're supposed to be talking about."

"Oh snap," Rae spoke in the most sarcastic tone she could manage.

"Seriously, if you intend to do this, how are you going to start?"

"That's why I said there was nothing definite. I came up with the idea before I caught hypothermia, or whatever you want to call what I had. You think I was considering options for overthrowing the House's authority while I was passed out?"

"You do sound pretty serious about this, though. You need a plan."

"Haven't we been repeating what we said earlier for the benefit of no one?"

"Basically. I was thinking, you need to do something that would grab the Head's attention. No one gets sent to her unless she or he has done something really bad. It's got to be a lot worse than throwing a few dungbombs in the classroom. You've basically got to stand up in the middle of the dining hall with about twenty other kids and shout that you don't want to live the way you've been living and then throw the dungbombs. But then she'll already be in the room so she can't really ignore it."

"There's no basically about it, that's what we're going to do. We've got two kids, three if you get Dawson to agree to it. That's seventeen to go."

"I still think you're being too optimistic about this, but if you insist we need to try something, we might as well. Better than having you mope all the time." Mildred, frankly, thought this was the dumbest idea she had heard in a long time. However, it _was _better than seeing Rae mope, and it was better than doing nothing.

* * *

The remainder of the children in Emerald House were much less trusting than Mildred, and for good reason. Dawson suggested that they try to incorporate kids from other houses, particularly Kelly House. However, as soon as word spread that Kelly House was involved, no self-respecting student wanted to participate. It took until Easter for nineteen students to agree to the plan. Realizing that the rest of the students were dead set against helping her, Rae planned the day when they would throw the dungbombs. Mildred had an older brother who was at Hogwarts, hating every memory he had of Slytherin House; he was more than willing to provide copious amounts of dungbombs. The children here normally were too broken to fight back; the staff would be caught unawares. There was no scanning process for the mail as no one had ever received dungbombs or another such practical joking substance by mail before. This was partly because the youth had lost too much hope to imagine any sort of tomfoolery, and partly because no one loved them enough to send a gift, especially one that could hurt the people who had taken their children off their hands.

Rae finally decided on the Tuesday after Easter. That night, Mildred dispensed a dungbomb to each student, and they sat at their places as usual. Some of them ate nothing, some of them ate what little they could glean from their plates, and some of them hid food in their laps to pass to kids from other tables. Rae was one of those such people. She had steadily lost weight since her dunk in the ocean, and the professors thought her body was still reacting to the cold water. However, she hadn't eaten a single supper since then. Kelly House had been splitting her supper amongst the younger ones as soon as she began passing it to them. If it helped another child go to sleep without being as hungry, Rae would continue to starve herself for one meal a day. Every day she tied a scarf around her waist, tighter and tighter, pretending her stomach was straining against her dress. She had to wrap a winter scarf around herself three times before it felt tight at this point.

Supper began to end. The headmistress had put her fork on her plate, signaling for dessert. Dessert was only offered to members of the staff, and it was divine. The students had to watch their faculty eat dessert, while they sat with empty plates and waiting stomachs. Tonight's specialty was a chocolate pudding that seemed to melt in one's mouth. Given that it was made with the magic of the house elves in the kitchen, it may have been charmed to perform that way. Rae hoped it would smell awful after she had finished with it.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Qimat hissed in her ear, coiled around her neck out of anxiety.

"Positive," she said and stood. A few heads turned, but the faculty's attention was distracted by the delectable food that had just been placed in front of them.

"We have a problem with how we've been treated!" Rae shouted at the top of her lungs. Her voice didn't tremble, though her resolve was growing weaker with every spoken word.

The room quieted.

Finally, someone stood, not Mildred, but Dawson. "Yeah! Why don't the bloody Gryffindors have a House because their parents don't love them? So what if we can talk to snakes!"

Three more children stood, two of them from Kelly House. "Any why do you pit us against one another?" demanded one from said House. She was no more than eight, but she spoke with a fire that Dawson had not. Where he had a burning rage, her fire was driven by a deeper hatred of injustice.

Mildred rose, and a couple of the professors raised their brows. She had never caused trouble, not in the many years she had been there. Her parents kicked her out at age three, and she would leave for Hogwarts the following year. They believed her too mature for this nonsense. She seemed to know their thoughts. "Too mature am I? Is maturity defined by enduring the suffering of other children? Children who can't get a decent meal? Where they have to fight for fruit and vegetables? We're not dodgy, we're not hopeless, and we're not dumb. So why are we being treated like we are? It was immature of me to take it for so long! I had to be taught by a eight-year-old to know what was right. Why? Because you're brainwashing the kids here!"

The rest of the nineteen stood, but their words were drowned out by the booming voice of the Head. "Rae Magelin. Come up here please."

Rae walked forward, eyes on the Head, afraid that seeing the shocked faces of other students would scare her into submission. Her mouth flattened into a thin line, her brows narrowed, and each stride lengthened as she approached the Head. By the time she reached the high table from her seat in the far back of the room, she was marching rather comically. However, she was too enraged to care.

As she reached the raised platform where the Head sat, she was ordered to turn and face the students. Upon doing so, a wand was pointed at her back, prodding her slightly to alert her to its presence.

"Now, Rae. I want you to tell the students that this was a misunderstanding, and that you were wrong," said the Head sweetly.

"No."

The wand jabbed her.

"Rae, you heard me. Tell the students you're sorry."

"I'm sorry our headmistress is such an inhuman monster."

Another professor, presumably the one holding the wand, performed the Cruciatus curse silently. The witch must have been exceedingly powerful, to perform such a spell without words, but after a moment's worth of thought, Rae didn't care. She cared about nothing, not her friends, her family, equality, or Qimat, only the pain. It sprang throughout her body, leaping across veins, jumping into bones, and clutching her heart. Everything burned.

But as it burned, a small voice crept its way into the forefront of Rae's mind. It forbade her from screaming. She could curse and rant at the voice all she wanted, but it kept a firm hold on her vocal cords. It was the remains of her pride, the rest of it stripped by the pain. Rae tried to open her mouth, let someone, anyone, know how she was feeling. She wanted to make them share her pain, because then, it might feel just a small bit better. The only thing that left her being was a wordless stream of curses, words she didn't know were buried in the back of her mind. Words she'd heard her father use when he was angry at a friend and he thought she was sleeping. Words Dawson used on a regular basis. Words the teachers used if they weren't obedient pets. But abruptly, the pain stopped. The professor put her wand away. Rae slumped onto the floor, hearing only one word, booming above the chaos in the crowded room. "Obliviate."


	4. Chapter 4

Rae woke in her bed and blinked. Her body wouldn't move. She thrashed her head from side to side, until she finally had the sense to lift it a little and see the blankets. The piled, five high, on top of her small form and held her firmly in place. Mildred fussed over rearranging Rae's belongings in the small dresser the two of them shared. She was determined that Rae wouldn't wake up in a dirty environment. As soon as she saw Rae awake, Mildred ran over and hugged her. Rae could tell she nearly whooped at the sight of her eyes open. Rae blinked a couple more times. She couldn't quite place her finger on what the problem was, but everything seemed a little too familiar.

"Don't you ever do that again," Mildred said, without any real disapproval in her tone.

"Do what?"

"Dive into the freezing ocean, that's what!" Mildred shot her a look to alert her of the Head standing over her other side.

"You had quite a spill, deary. Why would you go into the ocean?" The headmistress's voice sounded like the personification of honey poured into a drum of toxic waste and fly larvae.

"I remembered my brother loved the ocean, and my parents sent me a letter telling me he was ill. I thought if I wished really hard while I was in the ocean, he'd get better." Rae tried not to blink too many times. She could hear Qimat's breathing calm next to her; she passed the first lie. The others would hopefully be easier.

The Head's face broke into a large, falsified smile. Rae couldn't help but notice that her teeth seemed just a little too pointed to be normal. "That's a very kind thought, dear. Next time we'll try something a bit safer, shall we? I'll help you write your parents if you'd like."

"No thank you, Ma'am. I don't think my parents would appreciate a letter from me at present. But thank you." Rae showed the Head all of her teeth in what she hoped was a smile. If it hadn't been, the Head gave no indication. She simply patted Rae on the head and smiled in what Rae thought was the most menacing smile known to mankind. Rae tried not to flinch as the woman touched her, but her fingers felt like icicles dripping down the back of her shirt. She shook her head slightly to clear it.

Overdramatizing this woman would help no one.

Apparently, the Head believed her and left.

Rae could hardly contain her exasperation. As soon as the worn door closed behind the Head, Rae listened for the scuffling sound of footfalls. She couldn't hear them. Perhaps the witch still waited outside, but Rae hadn't the patience to care. She slapped her hands down onto the bedsheet. "What's going on?" Rae demanded, her voice commanding and more than a little angry.

"You organized a rally. One of the professors put you under the Cruciatus curse, and you passed out." Mildred was extremely blunt, perhaps too blunt. Rae's mouth opened in a silent o of shock. Mildred could almost see the waves of confusion pouring off her small bod. They rippled in the air and one by one plinked Mildred in the forehead. "Anyway, sorry about the stupid sheets and whatnot. You're supposed to be really sick with hypothermia-induced influenza right now. I thought you might want a rest before someone else used an Unforgivable on you. You've been slipping between semi-conscious and sleeping states for the last week. Today's the first day you actually figured out that I was in the room. Great timing on the Head's part." Mildred spat her last words.

"What?" Rae gasped. She couldn't be sure if Mildred's words were sarcastic, but they sounded sincere enough.

"And I don't remember any of the last I don't know how long because?"

Three months, and it was because the Head placed a pretty strong oblivious charm on you. That's why she started talking about the ocean; she was attempting to force your brain to rationalize that the past three months were a foggy dream, and that you had just come out of the ocean from that stupid stunt you did a while back. I don't know how she thought you'd fall for it, especially since the rest of us know what happened. To be honest, I don't know how she thought the influenza thing would work either. I mean, you don't look well, so it's plausible in that respect." Rae glared at her "What? You don't look well. I'm just stating the facts here. Anyway, she didn't put the curse on any of us. She thought seeing you pass out was a powerful enough message. It was for a lot of people, though not in the way she wanted."

"Wait," Rae paused to rub her temples. She knew she had forgotten something, Midlred had said as much. It stood on the end of a precipice, right at the tip of her tongue. She could almost grasp it, but every time she reached, an elastic band pulled her mind back to the start. Her face reddened from the effort. "What kind of rally did I organize to deserve that anyway?"

"Well, I think any kind of rally would get the same response, simply because you're a Slytherin and you're therefore supposed to shut up and follow orders, but this one was particularly rebellious." Mildred launched into Rae's plan with the dungbombs, the dinnertime protests, and the promise that Slytherin House would change for the better if they succeeded. Rae stared at her older, larger friend and tried to calculate exactly how insane she must have been to come up with such an idiotic scheme. Qimat poked his head out from underneath the pillow, and laughed at all the right moments in Mildred's story. At the end of her story, Mildred gestured her left hand in a sweeping motion and sank into a deep bow towards the snake. If Qimat had the appendages, he would have used a fan to swoon like a southern belle from the 1800's. Even without the appendages, he did a decent job at horribly impersonating a southern woman. "My stars! What a beautiful story you tell. Bless you're little heart," Qimat hissed in a snake's equivalent of falsetto."

"Seriously? I was going to suggest doing something, but I would never have thought of that!"

Mildred chuckled. "Apparently that was _exactly_ what you would have thought of." Mildred twisted her mouth slightly and hoped that her words made logical sense. "We never did drop the dungbombs though. We're saving those for the next attack. The other kids wanted to make sure you were okay, by the way. Oh, and Kelly House sent you a bunch of stale bread as a get well present."

"But I don't talk to kids from Kelly House. I barely talk to kids from Pastel House, and no one talks to kids from Hunter House." No one really knew about Hunter House. People left them out of all discussions, and the group of them hardly seemed to talk with each other. They kept enough people in their group to barely surpass Kelly House and ward off unwanted recruits. Rumors typically circulated about what exactly Hunter House was planning. At those time, Dawson would usually smile and say, "I think you need to ask what exactly Hunter House isn't planning," and wiggle his eyebrows a couple times for effect.

""You talked to all of them over the last three months. And you fed Kelly House with your own meals. You still haven't gained back that weight in the two days you've been unconscious, even though they've been pumping you full of sugar," she jabbed her finger to the cauldron on the bedside table, "Speaking of which, you're due for another dose." She poured a goblet of the green liquid and held it to Rae's nose. It smelled repulsive."

"If this is sugar, why does it smell terrible?"

"Because Gryffindors don't think Slytherins should have good tasting medicine. I tried to take out some of the stuff they were putting in it to taste bad, but I couldn't get out everything."

Rae took a sip and gagged. "This is vile."

Mildred remembered the week of watching matrons shove that sludge down Rae's throat.

_Stony-faced matrons slowly approached the bed. Their cauldron frothed, and a little spilled over the side. Mildred tried not to think about how it sizzled on the floor. She tried to promise herself that the matrons couldn't kill Rae, but she knew a memory charm would fix any "accidents_."

_Rae moaned softly as they poured the green liquid down her throat. It smelled like a putrid combination of excrement, gasoline, and more than a little flobberworm mucus. Mildred nearly vomited just looking at the scene. She placed a trembling hand over her nose, determined not to leave the room. Rae's body started to shake slightly from the impact of so much sugar entering her bloodstream at once. One of the matrons shot another a triumphant smirk, and they all departed._

_Mildred tried to wipe Rae's clammy forehead, but her muscles abandoned her in disgust._

"I would drink it and agree with you, but you need as much sugar as you can get. You're still under 40 pounds. That's gross."

"Are the kids from Kelly House getting more food?"

"No."

"Then I'll keep eating less."

Mildred sighed, realizing she couldn't win this battle unless someone starved. "If I stop eating, will you eat more food?"

"No! You're bigger than I am; you need the food."

"I'm bigger than you are _because_ I eat food, and I have actual fat on my bones that could keep me from ending up on disgusting sugar potions. Set me feed Kelly House for a bit. Just until you get better, at least."

Rae resigned to Mildred's demand, in part because she was starving and tired of hiding it.

* * *

During the next week, Rae answered every question incorrectly in class, and Emerald House had never lost a football match so spectacularly. The teachers, though Rae would do her work correctly, would nitpick at her handwriting, telling her she wrote a two instead of a six. Having lost her insatiable fire for freedom, Rae obeyed silently. The football defeat was only indirectly her fault: she was not playing in the game, but her actions at a supper she couldn't remember led the referees to be exceedingly unfair. Kelly House beat them by fifteen points, a team who hadn't won a game in at least seven years. Every time Kelly House fowled one of their players, they won a penalty kick for their team.

Emerald House had taken to avoiding her, even avoiding Mildred by association. Dawson resumed his taunting, most of which concerning Rae acting like the eight-year-old moron she was. Rae endured.

* * *

One night, after all the other girls in Emerald House had gone to sleep, their stomachs full and their minds content, Mildred took a seat on Rae's bed. "How did you do this?" she asked, gritting her teeth at the sound of her stomach.

"It helps if you tie a sash around your waist. Pretend it's full. Anyway, I'm 43 pounds now; I'm starting up tomorrow."

"Then we'll both do it. I needed to drop weight anyway."

"You did not need to drop weight! But, the more food for Kelly House the better. They're the only ones who talk to us anymore anyway. You know, they're on our side about the football game, even though they got fruit for a night at the dining hall as a reward."

Mildred's voice suddenly dropped a few decibels. "Hey, have you remembered anything about the night of the rally?"

"I wish. The only thing I can bring up is a lot of pain. And you know, I'd rather not bring that up, thanks. Qimat thinks I'm a masochist for even doing it once."

"You are, but that it is not the point." The turned their heads; Qimat was hissing softly to Soraya on Mildred's bed.

"They're friends!" Rae exclaimed, looking at the snakes.

"Why wouldn't they be? That's part of the familiar bond. A snake is friends with his master's friends' snakes. It's worked that way for thousands of years. Anyway, I got this letter from my brother. If you don't want to relive the pain, I can understand, but you should still have the option."

"What option?"

"Just shut up and read the letter. It's from my brother."

_Mildred, _

_I'm sorry for your friend; tell her I know the Cruciatus curse hurts. I think some of the Gryffindor teachers have been telling their students how to use it to practice against potential Dark wizards. I've been the victim one too many times. And I've only gotten it from overzealous students who can't hold the spell for more than a couple seconds; I don't want to know what the real deal feels like. Anyway, I've been looking up the Oblivious curse like you asked me to. There's no countercurse to bring back the memories. Basically, the way to keep the mind the way it was originally is to never use the curse in the first place. But that doesn't really help much, does it?_

_However, there is another option. Legilimency. If you get into someone's mind, you could try to use Finite Incantatem, that one stops spells. However, it might not work very well, since s it usually stops spells that are currently affecting the person, like disabling the vocal cords with Silencio. The Oblivious curse creates more permanent damage instead of working on the person while the spell is in effect. Diffindo might work, but I'd only try that after Finite Incantatem. It's dangerous. It makes seams split open, and there might be an invisible seam between the fog obscuring the mind from the curse and the memory. However, it could also split the seams of the mind itself. Your friend could go insane, though I think she was already insane for trying to stand up to the Head. Waddiwasi is used for dislodging objects, but tangible objects from the way my textbook reads. If the curse manifests itself as a block obstructing her mind's flow, you could try that one. According to everything I've read, the spell depends on how she views her mind. Everyone's mind is structured differently, so different spells work for different people._

_No answer is right; her mind will never be as it was before then. However, if you think this memory is important enough, you could consider trying any number of the spells I've given you. Use Diffindo as a last resort though. I really don't want you to see her mind split open. In any event, if your friend decides she wants this done to her mind, you'll need to master the spells beforehand, and you'll also need a wand. I almost forgot you didn't have one yet. However, remember how our parents brought you to Diagon Alley and Mr. Olivanders? Well, they bought you a wand that day, they just didn't tell you, since you're not allowed to have one until you're eleven. But you're almost ready to go to Hogwarts, and I think you deserve it. They told me to send it to you in an emergency, and I don't know if this is an emergency or not, but I still think you should get it. So, enclosed with this letter is your wand. Learn how to use it before attempting to get into her head; that alone can drive anyone mad. _

_-Weston_

"Did your parents kick him out?"

"Yep. We both got chucked out together, when he was nine and I was three. He was tall for being nine, so he got accepted into Emerald House, and he vouched for me. Thank God he went first or I'd be in Kelly House right now. My parents still love us though, even though we only get to see them once a year or so."

Rae's face fell. "My parents won't take me back either. At least yours love you."

"You're better better off without them anyway. My parents wouldn't come out about how they loved us until my older brother got sorted into Slytherin. I guess the shock of it snapped them out of whatever sick mindset they were in. Adults are dumb about loving people sometimes; I would never hide love for a child if my friends told me to. You know, until my older brother and I came along, my family had been pure Hufflepuff for centuries." Mildred abruptly changed topics. Rae saw a glint in her eye that she made her feel more than a little uneasy. "So, you want your memories back?"

Rae's first response would have been to ask if Mildred had taken her sanity pills that morning. However, she reflected on her house, and how she felt after waking up with a three-month-long hole in her mind. "Was I happier?"

"What do you mean?"

"Was I happier when I had this purpose? Did I seem happier to you?"

"Yes. Almost 100% happier. It was startling how much you changed when you thought you had a job to do. If you remember what happened in the ocean, I'm surprised you still aren't feeling that purpose."

"I dunno what's up with my head, but you should fix it. Use the wand, practice, and fix this."

"I got the letter five days ago. I'm ready if you are."

"Wait, are you kidding me? Five days of practice, and you think I'm going to let you get into my brain? Legilimency is a skill not even O.W.L. level students learn! What makes you think you can do it?"

"Well, my thinking is that I probably can't do it as well as they can." Rae barked out a short laugh. "But," she continued, "I can't really do that much damage since I'm a pretty weak witch. And I know you well enough to hopefully know my way around your mind." Rae started to protest, but Mildred stopped her, "And I know the spell. I can get into Soraya's mind just fine."

"The only reason you can get into that snake's mind is because you _have the same mind_!" Rae hissed, punctuating every word. "That's the point of having a familiar. You share a significant part of your brains!"

"Hey wait a second…." Mildred's face lit up with what Rae hoped wasn't an evil grin. It looked a little like someone named the Grinch that she saw in a Muggle cartoon at Christmas time. He stole all the Christmas presents from the children. Her mother said he would have been a Slytherin, and that's why his heart was too small. The smile he made when he decided to steal Christmas still haunted Rae. It transformed his face into a mass of grinning wrinkles separated only by rows of gleaming, pointed teeth. Mildred's face wasn't as far from that expression as Rae would like. Mildred continued, and Rae paled. "I could get into your head through your familiar. That way if I don't do it right I won't hurt you."

"So basically, if it's too dangerous for me you're going to do it to my snake? He's my best friend!" Rae didn't bother to watch the sting register on Mildred's face. "Do you really think I'd let you do that to him?" Rae was screaming now, and she didn't care who could hear. The matrons would think she had another psychotic break or something. According to them, Slytherins were mentally unstable creatures, so it wasn't much of a stretch.

"I practiced it on my snake, it's not going to do—"

"I don't care what you _think_ it's not going to do. I care about the fact that you might kill my snake!"

"If I might interject," Qimat began.

"Qimat, be quiet. I'm trying to get you from being killed here!" Rae interjected.

"Well, it is my life after all—"

"You think I care about that?" Rae shrieked.

Mildred sighed at the irrationality of her friend and hoped whatever out of character behavior this was came from her sugar high.

Qimat tried again, "I think I will be fine. Snakes have more defenses around their minds than humans do, at least magical snakes."

"But you're not a magical snake," reasoned Rae, who was still searching for excuses.  
"I am a magical snake so long as a witch sustains me. Trust me, I have powers now to defend my mind, as part of my duty as a familiar is to protect the mind of both you and myself. Going through me will be much easier, as I can help guide Mildred through your thoughts. I, unlike her, actually know what I will be doing inside your brain." Mildred bristled with irritation but wisely decided to stay silent.

"B-but… we need more time to prepare, don't we?"

"That's why I spent the last five days practicing."

"You've had a wand for five days! You shouldn't even be performing Alohomora right now!"

"Well I can't perform Alohomora, but I can still perform Legilimency. It's easier if the person wants you in their mind, you know."

"Well then this should be impossible for you, since I don't want you near me," Rae looked pointedly at Qimat, "or my snake."

"Rae, we might as well do it now. I do not want you to live in ignorance of those months for more than a couple days."

"Qimat, you're a reflection of my mind in animal form. You're supposed to be helping me with this!"

"I possess a few, quite limited I will admit, powers involving the mind. In conjunction with a weak spell I could allow her into my mind at least. Once there, you will have the choice to grant her entry into yours. You are right when you say that her spell will fail without your permission. It will also fail," he shot Mildred an apologetic look, "without my aid, simply because she lacks the power."

Rae looked at him skeptically, "And what gives you this mystical snakey power? I thought I was the only thing keeping you alive."

Qimat bowed his head a little; her comment stung ever so slightly, even though it wasn't an insult. "When a witch sustains her familiar with magic, we gain a few magical properties in addition to a lengthened life span. We can read the witch's thoughts, and allow others into the collective mind with express permission of both the snake and the witch. Legilimency still has to be performed, but the only power lies in the incantation. Everything else comes from the guardian snake."

"Oh, so you conveniently have this magical snakey power just at the moment we need it?" Rae asked incredulously.

"Pretty much, yeah." Mildred's snake, Soraya, chimed in.

"Perfect," Rae grumbled in annoyed submission.

"Let's go somewhere else to do this thing." Mildred said, "I don't want Dawson waking up and snitching."

Rae grumbled something about never agreeing to whatever insanity they were about to try, but she followed anyway. The two of them ran through the corridors, their snakes trailing behind them, pausing every few minutes to check for professors lurking around the corners. They found one, but she was sound asleep, her hat covering her eyes. Rae was worried about the professor's snake snake, until she realized that the professors were Gryffindors and didn't have snakes. Mildred had always told her that it was their loss that they didn't have a guardian and friend in an animal. Rae agreed with her.

The garden for potionmaking was open again, though Rae edged past a glob of sludge that looked eerily magical. It was bright green and had an unpleasant resemblance to Rae's "medicine," and though the last potions class had made potions three days ago, it still bubbled. Mildred swore it was harmless, but Rae coughed for two minutes after smelling just a whiff of it. "It was _supposed_ to be harmless," Mildred said, shrugging.

"All right, we might as well start now."

"Here goes nothing," Rae said, trying to hide her uncertainty.

"Legilimens!" Mildred raised her voice, sweat beginning to bead between her brows as she concentrated, forcing the bulk of her magic behind the spell.

The world went dark.

* * *

A pair of knut-colored eyes stared from the void. A moment later, a thick crimson tongue poked from below them. "How do you fare?" asked Qimat. Rae thought his voice sounded like God's coming from inside his mind. It reverberated throughout the entire chamber. Mildred stood beside her, shaking. Soraya remained behind; Mildred didn't want to risk her. She would never admit that to Rae, of course. "Ready to go?"

"I still can't believe we're in this Hell hole."

"First, Rae, I must say I am astounded at your careless language. Second, you are speaking of my mind, and I would prefer you use more complimentary terms. I find the inside of my head to be much preferable to Hell."

"Fine. I guess you can go into my head," Rae said begrudgingly and tried to brace herself.

The world went dark.

* * *

Rae stood on a floor. She couldn't tell if it was marble, wood, or concrete. She suspected it was none of them; it made no sound when she walked on it. Mildred stood beside her, extremely confused but ecstatic. "This is your mind," she said calmly, a little too calmly if Mildred stopped lying to herself, looking around her in awe.

Rae had never felt so violated. Her mind tried to repel the foreign substance, and Mildred felt a sharp pull around her navel. Only Qimat kept a pressure on the mind that kept Mildred in her place. "Would you try to stop kicking me out? I'm going to help you, remember?"

"Sorry. Reflex."

"Do you know where the memory is?"

"I've never been in here before."

"This is your brain! How have you never been here?" Mildred would have laughed if the matter hadn't been so serious.

"I don't know! Let's just find it, okay?"

Instantly, at her unconscious request, a video editing screen appeared. She remembered seeing one when her brother decided to go through a 'Muggle Arts' phase. He never told her much about it, but apparently it had left an impression. "I guess this is how I store my thoughts," she thought to herself. Instantly, the video and audio tracks on the screen increased. She could see an image of herself, standing exactly where she was, looking at what appeared to be thin air, as she thought the words she just thought. The audio track rang the words more clearly than any program she had seen on television when she lived at home. "I guess this is how I store my thoughts," the screen played.

Of course, she her reaction to the words playing was another thought, and the video and audio tracks lengthened again, showing her what she had just thought. And the reaction to that reaction lengthened the tracks once more, and such continued until Mildred nudged her. "Can you stop gazing in awe at the complexity of your mind?"

"Sorry," she said, and blushed. Meters in the red column of the video editing software spiked. She could hear Mildred's voice in the background, but the sound was muffled. Rae tried to reach for the rewind button, but it didn't work. She could see that the track was lengthening, but she couldn't access it. As soon as she tried, the tracks beyond her immediate view were deleted. Rae considered how oddly her mind decided to act. "Apparently, short term and long term memories are stored somewhere else. This is just my thoughts, and the words of those around me, in the present moment."

She tried to bring up another video editing window, one for her short-term memories of the last year. Apparently, her mind didn't store her memories in the same fashion. "What about these cabinets?" Mildred called over her shoulder.

"Don't open those!" Rae screamed and bowled into Mildred as she began to pry one open. She didn't move quickly enough.

A melancholy wail filled the room. It was the sound of torture, of sadness, of neglect, and of loneliness. A dripping sound alerted Rae to the water the cabinet was releasing onto the floor. "You made my mind cry," Rae said, more confused than actually upset at this new development.

"I'm… sorry?" Mildred said, strongly suppressing the urge to laugh at the expression on Rae's face. But as the wailing continued, sounding more heartbreaking with each wave that reverberated throughout the contents of Rae's mind, Mildred felt the urge to laugh disappear more and more. She felt like sobbing, not only for her troubles, but for her triumphs, for they could mean nothing compared to her sadness. And compared to the sadness of the wailing voice, her entire life had the emotional range of a teaspoon, which made her want to cry even more.

Rae had the good sense to shut the cabinet. "Do NOT touch the cabinets. Ever. Understand?"

The wailing stopped, the water vanished, and Mildred no longer felt the need to pound her fists on the ground in anguish. "What _was _that?"

"Raw emotion. I didn't realize what it was until you opened it, just that touching the thing would be a really bad idea. Gut feelings should probably be followed when it's my head we're knocking about."

"How can you live with that much sadness inside you?"

"Because of this." Rae disobeyed her own advice and pulled open the cabinet drawer just below it.

Instantly, the room was filled with pink and orange bubbles and the sense of a good joke being told. The joke wasn't audible, but the atmosphere was there. Sweet music played in the background, nursery rhymes and love poems combined in a perfect harmony. Puffy clouds floated out of the drawer, turning themselves into smiling faces, her mother holding her as her father read her a story, her father bouncing her on his knee as her mother told her a different story, one of her father being extremely silly. Rae looked down and realized she and Mildred were no longer wearing their clothes; they had donned beautiful dresses, ball gowns, more magnificent than the ones in fairytales. Mildred was too engrossed in popping the bubbles to grimace; Rae was enraptured by the splendor of her mind. She could spend time here for the rest of her life. But some inner strength of will forced her hand; the cabinet door closed.

"What _was_ that?" asked Mildred, her hand inching towards the cabinet.

"Don't open it again. I might not be strong enough to shut it."

"Why would you _ever_ shut it?" Mildred was clearly still caught under its spell.

"Because it is artificial," said Qimat, "It is what Rae's mind perceives pure happiness to be. She will never feel that much happiness at once in her life, and using pure happiness to resolve her sadness will cheapen her life experiences forever. Life will become various shades of miserable and nothing more.

Mildred nodded, shocked that Rae's snake knew her well enough to form a coherent argument in the face of that ecstasy. "So, what is in those cabinets exactly?" she asked again, determined to have her question answered more fully.

"It's raw emotion," Rae answered. "I have others, anger, trust, fear, surprise, anticipation, and disgust."

"I don't have them. I went through my own mind to practice going through yours, and I don't have fancy filing systems with raw emotion inside."

Rae shrugged "Each mind is organized differently, like your brother said. You probably haven't found your emotion center yet."

Comprehension dawned on Mildred's face. "I did see some balloons that had different faces on them. If I popped them, I'd probably release the emotion."

"You know, we're chilling in my brain right now. I don't feel like going insane, so if we could find my memories…?"

"Right."

At the back of the room they were in, which hadn't appeared to be a room until Rae thought of it that way, there was a door. It was unmarked, but Rae could hear sounds that she remembered from living at home. "It's in here. Let's go."

Inside the room, they found another, almost exactly the same. The floor was an identical, nondescript black; the walls were black as well. Rae tried to wrap her head around the idea that the walls and floors of her mind were black. They didn't look black to her. They simply looked nonexistent. She could feel them and yet be unable to touch them at the same time. They were, in reality, nothing: tangible nothingness. It made her cringe to think that the premise of her journey was based on a paradox. She supposed her mind created them to give her body a familiar sensation of touch, but her brain certainly hadn't done a very good job. It was disconcerting, the feeling of standing in her mind. Her mind, tormented as it was, attempted to make her and welcome travelers comfortable in the only way it could. Rae took a closer look around, and she saw a row of small boxes, each tied with a ribbon. They looked vaguely like the presents under her Christmas tree at home. The boxes all had the same dark shade of maroon, and the ribbons were dark navy. These colors were never a preference of Rae's, but apparently her subconscious found them soothing.

They poured through the memories, untying each box feverishly. The hard part was trying to put the memory back inside the box; most of them didn't like being forced into captivity once they were released. The memories were organized in chronological order, the first being her interaction with Qimat in the garden at ten months old. The two of them looked at every tenth memory, starting from the most recent memory, trying to identify the one which was damaged. Finally, Mildred though she found it, a box with a small, white splotch on the ribbon. After viewing the memory, she saw white fog covering all of the video, and the voices were barely made out.

"Okay, so we need a stain-removal spell?"

"I think you should try Finite Incantatem first."

"Finite infcantatem!" Mildred yelled, pointing her new wand at the white fog.

Nothing happened.

"You don't know how to do any spells besides Legilimency, do you." Rae asked in a flat voice. Mildred shifted from side to side uncomfortably. "I'm also assuming that you don't know any stain-removal spells?"

"Now why would I know any of those?"

"Because our professors think that Slytherins should be enslaved to clean the houses of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, and the occasional Hufflepuff."

"Touché. But no, they never told me any."

"Use Diffindo."

"I am not trying Diffindo on your head! You're eight, and I haven't done that spell before! You have an entire life ahead of you, and you want to waste it on some stupid memory."

"First, let's once again bring in the point that you decided you were going to muck about with my brain saying that you were prepared, when you didn't know what you were going to do once you showed up in my mind! What were you thinking? And besides that, I want you to try something since we're already here." Rae felt exasperated to the point that she didn't mind putting herself in danger. Of course, if Mildred damaged her mind permanently, Rae would probably regret her decision, "I was_ happy_ with that memory. Life isn't worth it to me if everything's the same shade, not when I can do something to fix it. With that memory, I could make a difference. And what would my life be worth if I didn't do anything with it? I could live a hundred years and be less important than a baby." Rae's chest heaved, her mouth and eyes set, her anger peaking to a point near the ferocity she had when her mind was fully intact.

Mildred, her hand shaking heavily said weakly, "Diffindo."

Nothing happened.

"Diffindo!" she shouted.

Nothing happened.

Qimat, now in corporeal form, slithered up to the two of them. "Would you like some assistance? I could get rid of that for you, I think. It will not be pleasant."

"Just, do it. Don't kill me. I trust you," Rae shot a pointed look at Mildred, who shrugged in an attempt to appear unashamed.

Writhing on the floor in pain that made the Cruciatus curse seem like a feather bed, Rae clutched her head, raking her fingers across the skin. She sobbed, she pled, and she prayed for mercy; Mildred held her arm steady. One hand clutching the other to keep it pointed at the box, Qimat envisioned the white separating itself from the ribbon, the box returning to the ground, and the white landing at Rae's feet.

The ribbon on the box shook intensely. It smoked, and almost caught fire. The white tugged against the ribbon, once, twice. Cotton threads held as the rest ripped away from the ribbon. Mildred compared the scene to pulling a tooth. The one root held the rest of the tooth into the mouth and kept the person in excruciating pain. Mildred figured that those people didn't know pain compared to this. After what seemed like an eternity, the last wisp detached, and the white floated onto the ground. It looked so harmless. Mildred hated it.

Rae's hands clawed at her eyes, her back arched, her heels digging into the floor of the memory room. Mildred carefully moved her so she wouldn't kick any boxes out of place. "Why won't it stop hurting?" Rae screamed. "The fog is gone! Why won't I get better? Make me better! Mommy!" The last word broke from her throat as a raw, shrill cry, choked off by a wail.

The pain ended as quickly as it had come. Rae curled into a fetal position, rocking in a ball, sucking her thumb, and sobbing. The tears streaming down her face left a pool of water on the floor. Mildred, against all protest, picked her up, and carried her into the main room. She neared the filing cabinet and saw the cabinet containing her sadness open and leaking profusely. She slammed it shut, and Rae stopped crying, mid-moan.

"Stop messing with my head," she grumbled, clearly not upset that her drawer of sadness had been firmly closed.

"I could put a lock on it if you want," Mildred suggested.

Qimat nearly lost his sanity, if he had any after watching Rae writhe on the floor. "What kind of human being would she be without sadness? She could not empathize, sympathize, or pity. She could not grieve for those who have lost or cry at her own pain. The pain would never stop, she simply would have to bottle it. How could she ever be happy with a sadness never truly felt and never truly absent? Do not wish that on her, Mildred." Rae tried to nod her head in agreement but couldn't move her muscles beyond sucking her thumb.

Mildred, aghast at simple but complex explanation, shrugged in an attempt to look nonchalant. "I still would have kept the happy drawer open all the time. I don't think I have that much self-discipline."

"That's why your drawers are balloons. Once you pop them, you can't put them back together. That's just the kind of person you are. You'd better not go in there and try anything."

"You ready to go back?"

Rae said nothing.

The world went dark.


	5. Chapter 5

Mildred felt her feet hit solid ground for the first time in what felt like a week. The most disconcerting thing to her was that this ground felt less stable than her foothold in Rae's mind. "Definitely less stable," she thought as the world swam in front of her eyes. She went down to one knee, and eventually to lying on the grass. Not even the smell of grass could keep her mind grounded. She tried to look out to the sky and find one star to use as a focal point. It would have worked had the stars stayed_ put_. For a moment, Mildred forgot about the small girl lying beside her as she pulled herself into a ball. She shook violently, trying to regain a sense of "placement." Between each episode, she scolded herself for not being more reasonable. She remembered entering Rae's mind, and she knew that her body stayed firmly on the ground the entire time. Unfortunately, the part of her brain controlling her physical nature didn't agree with her reasoning.

The world slowed to a gentle spin. Mildred could almost compare it to a dancer exiting her pirouette in preparation for another move. She only hoped that this particular pirouette marked the end of her performance. Rae whimpered beside her, and Mildred finally gathered enough strength to acknowledge anything other than the amusement park ride that was lying on the grass. She tested a foot uneasily on the ground, trying to push up against it. After a couple tries, she found herself holding Rae to her chest. She didn't quite remember picking up the small girl, but she supposed that didn't matter.

Mildred blinked. The two of them now stood in their shared bedroom. Mildred tried to shake her head in confusion, and realized quickly that shaking her head brought on another wave of problems. She lurched sideways, knocking Rae to the ground and her half leaning on a table. Neither of them moved. "Is this what happens when we're ready to come back? I don't want to know what happens when we're surprised."

Soraya's voice needled through her thoughts, "It would probably help if you actually knew how to use magic."

"Shut up."

* * *

Two weeks later, Mildred approached Rae's bed with caution. Mildred had healed completely after a night's rest and an easy diet. Rae had slept. Rae slept even as Mildred tread softly near the bed. The little girl woke a few times for a couple hours, but remised into the same dreamless state as before. The day prior, Mildred tried some simple arithmetic problems, and Rae had fallen asleep after attempting only three. Mildred expected this, but she didn't expect the nighttime attacks.

_"47!" Shrieked a small voice. A couple disgruntled members of Slytherin House wiped their eyes and cursed at her to go back to sleep._

_"3,682!" The voice cut through the silence of the night once more. _

_Mildred rolled onto her side and rubbed her eyes. "Mildred, shut that kid up!" someone shouted at the far end of the room._

_"Hey baby, what's wrong? It's just a dream." Mildred reassured Rae halfheartedly, putting a hand on the girl's hair to soothe her. _

_She didn't expect the cool sheen of sweat. She didn't expect the forehead that felt like fire, or the heartbeat that fluttered as a hummingbird's in flight. She didn't expect strands of hair plastered to Rae's forehead like they were the only things that could help. Mildred held her tongue, her breath, and whatever else she couldn't think to relax. She certainly didn't sleep that night. Her fingers traced calming patterns over Rae's scalp and forehead while another hand traced circles on her palm. She stood, sat, laid down on the bed, but she never slept. Mildred saw eyes darting under closed lids, and so she banished sleep. She couldn't concentrate past her nose, and she couldn't control past her mouth, so tired was she. But she would stay awake for this small, shivering thing beside her. _

_Rae smiled and looked up. "What lesson are you teaching me today? Are we doing more arithmetic?"_

_Mildred couldn't believe the transformation, even after three nights of it. At six or so in the morning, Rae's fever would break, and the two of them would ease into a blissful respite for half an hour. Rae, at least, could stay and sleep during the day because she was still recovering from the "flu." Mildred was not so fortunate. She woke up, went to classes, returned, tried to teach Rae arithmetic, and passed out until midnight when Rae's pitiful whimpering called her awake. _

Mildred couldn't believe that the pitiful whispers in the night belonged to the smiling girl before her. "Can I try some addition problems again? I bet I'll get them right this time."

A memory of screeched numbers played across Mildred's mind like a pianist stroking his keys. "Maybe we shouldn't do numbers today." Rae still hadn't managed to grasp even the simplest of sums after the venture into her mind.

"I bet I'll get them right this time."

"Bet you will, since you were probably practicing while I was at classes." Mildred was afraid to reveal the screaming; Rae didn't need to know why the bags under Mildred's eyes had bags of their own. "What's 2+3?"

"5. You asked me much harder questions yesterday!"

"What's…" Mildred fished for some remote numbers in the back of her brain, "13X3786=?" Rae was not expected to know more than her basic time tables as far as multiplication, and she had been working slightly ahead of children in her age group.

"49,218." Rae said, without hesitation. "Hey, that's not addition!"

"That was supposed to be a joke," Mildred gasped. "Good job," Mildred said weakly, her eyes wide. "What did I do to your head?" she asked herself.

"Ask me more questions!"

"I think we're good for today, sweetheart. You should get some rest. I want to make sure you get better before you can go back to classes."

Rae shrugged and closed her eyes to pretend to sleep. Mildred reached over to grasp her hand. The first few nights, the heat faded by morning. Now the hand felt like Rae set it on a hot stove and forgot that burns were painful. Mildred could feel a line of hives tracing their way down her skin to meet in a swirling X across her chest. She pressed a cool washcloth to Rae's hands and chest. It did nothing. Rae opened an eye as she felt the washcloth and let out a primitive precursor to a giggle. As it continued, the tone transformed from giggle to a resounding laugh that pierced Mildred's ears. She placed her hand over Rae's lips. "Sorry," Rae said, blushing.

"Lie still, sweetie," Mildred said with as much calm as she could manage.

Rae, as expected of an eight-year-old, squirmed as much as she possibly could, before forgetting to be still and finally lying motionless. Mildred slowly removed the washcloth and pressed a hand to Rae's forehead. Her face paled. It felt hotter after the compress. She brushed hair away from Rae's face, hair she hadn't realized was plastered there by a sheen of sweat. Rae had fallen asleep again, exhausted though her mind hadn't realized it while she was conscious. Mildred grabbed a pen and paper.

_Dear Weston,_

_I was forced to use Diffindo due to the nature of Rae's mind. It, predictably, didn't do a thing. We both know I can't do magic to save my life. I am only ten after all. But I don't write to you to tell you about my lack of magical ability. I write because something's wrong. The snake removed the Oblivious curse, and she seemed oaky afterwards, if a little weak. The first few days, she looked like she was regaining her mental abilities. She couldn't speak the first day; the next day she could. That sort of thing._

_Weston, it's frightening what's happening now. She screams all night, and the next day has progressed so extraordinarily that I'm not sure she's completely human. Yesterday she couldn't do a few simple addition problems. Today, I asked her a near-impossible mental multiplication problem, and she rattled off the answer like a calculator. Is her mind simply adjusting to the new memories and the intrusion, or is her brain burning itself out?_

_-Mildred_

Mildred stayed with her the rest of the night, placing cool washcloths on her forehead and holding her hand. The fever only rose, as she had feared. It passed heats Mildred didn't know someone could feel without dying. Rae cried for her mother, for her father, for her snake, and for Mildred. Qimat trembled by Soraya, both of them perched on Mildred's bed. Qimat had taken to rubbing himself against rough objects, shaving off his scales, out of stress. Soraya was trying to heal the wounds, but he had been scraping his body against things for at least twenty-four hours; the scales needed time to mend.

"Mildred!" Rae shouted with eyes wide and arms outstretched.

Mildred held both of her hands, placing her arms around her shoulders. "I'm here, baby. I'm here." Rae could neither feel, hear, nor see her. Delirious, she writhed in Mildred' grasp. Her hair was tangled, her skin was deathly pale, and she looked to be on the brink of death. She fought with more strength than Mildred could have believed possible. She looked possessed.

Dawson jerked open the door separating the boys' and girls' rooms in Emerald House. "What is going on in here? Bloody murder?" He saw Mildred's face and paled instantly: her face suggested that bloody murder was exactly what had gone on.

"Dawson, get one of the professors. Now. I don't care which. Rae's going to Mungo's if it's the last thing I do." Mildred silently cursed herself for waiting this long. Her stupid pride kept her friend in a bed for two weeks in the hope that she would get better. She told professors it was a simple case of Parselmouth Pox, as if such a disease existed. The professors ate that lie up; Slytherins were punished more harshly even by bacteria because of their inherent filth. She glanced down at her friend's shaking form. _"No one deserves this punishment."_

Dawson, with one fearful look at the animated corpse that was a lively child only two weeks prior, sprinted from the room and down the hall. Mildred could hear each footstep slapping the ground as if it were delivering retribution for a personal crime.

* * *

Professor Palmer pushed against Dawson as she bowled through the aisles of beds. She clasped Rae's hand in one of her own, Mildred's in the other, and disapparated from the room. Dawson, who had clutched the back of the professors hair bun, traveled as well.

Mildred felt as if her naval had been pulled out through her eyes and her ears had gone through her stomach down to her toes as her entire body was squeezed through an incredibly tight tube. Touching solid ground, she touched her ears with both hands, confirming their anatomical placement. Their party appeared to be outside a closed department store, Purge and Dowse, Ltd. It was a large, red brick building. Professor Palmer, pulling up the hem on her robes, stepped into the large display window on the front of the department store. Feeling more than slightly silly, Mildred followed, Rae supported between her and Dawson.

"How _dare_ you grab onto my hair!" the professor hissed at Dawson, "Were the situation not so grave, I would have you removed from Slytherin House permanently! As it were, the circumstances are dire, but I will not permit this type of disrespectful conduct in the future. Do you understand me?"

Dawson nodded solemnly.

Mildred carried Rae over to a sign listing the various departments. "We need the fourth floor," she announced somewhat breathlessly.

"I know that, dear. But there seems to be no place for an emergency case. I'll find the front desk."

Dawson approached Mildred. They appeared to be gritting their teeth in unison. "She's finding the _front desk_ when Rae's dying. Honestly! Gryffindors can be so obtuse sometimes."

"Tell me about it," Dawson replied.

Professor Palmer hurried back to them, another witch in tow. She was portly, with a kind face and wrinkles that came not from frowning too much, but from smiling almost constantly. Her hair was gray, tied into a knot quite similar to that of Professor Palmer. Dawson snickered. Mildred rolled her eyes before turning to the witch. "Please help her. She'll die." She could find no way to word her requisite more eloquently.

"We'll try. Spell damage, I presume?" She felt Rae's forehead, and shot a couple pink sparks from her wand.

"A healer should be with you shortly."

Within seconds, a team of three healers had arrived. "Mobilicorpus," said one of them calmly. The three of them pointed their wands at the body and supported her, gliding between them, into an elevator where she was taken to the third floor. Mildred moved to follow them.

"Stay where you are, Mildred. We must wait until they return with news."

"Yes, professor."

"Why don't you tell me what happened?"

Though Palmer seemed to have less prejudice to what the other professors referred to as 'snake-hissing heathens,' Mildred wasn't completely sure she could trust her. "Professor, I'm not so sure…" Mildred let her voice trail off.

"That you can trust me? I assure you, I will keep this a complete secret. Though I may not be tempted to make an Unbreakable Vow solidifying my promise as veriteserum could be used against me, I promise I will not willingly share this information with another professor. It's best if you tell me the entire story; I could give the healers useful information, you know."

Soraya hissed softly into Mildred's ear from her place back at Slytherin House. Mildred started slightly, but listened. "I don't usually do this sort of thing, Mildred, but I needed to come along this time. Qimat insisted." Mildred could almost hear Qimat hissing in the background. "Anyway, listen to the lady. I mean, you're already in enough crap as it is, Mildred." Mildred could nearly hear Qimat reprimanding her snake for the use of crass language through a precious mental link between witch and familiar. Mildred was sure Soraya didn't care. "Look, she knows you did stuff with spells. The healers are going to find out what happened with a couple diagnostic tests, and you'll get in more trouble if she hears information from them. And what if the healers don't figure it out? Without the information they need Rae could die."

Mildred revealed the entire story.

It seemed to take an eternity, explaining the video editor, the filing cabinets, and later the memory room. As the story drew to a close, Mildred was close to tears. Dawson was looking at his toes. "I think I found the problem," the professor began softly.

Dawson looked up. "Well, tell us!"

"I was getting to that, Dawson. Stop being so impatient. This is a theory, and I don't know if my speculations could help Rae much. The healers have probably found what I learned, if it is true. When you closed the filing cabinet containing her sadness, I think you forced closed something that should have remained open. Did Rae seem relentlessly cheerful?"

"She was happy, but there was no reason why she shouldn't have been. She told me beforehand that she would have been happier with that memory, and she was. There was no reason for me to expect anything out of the ordinary."

"She didn't laugh at inopportune moments?"

Mildred recalled Rae's crazed giggle as she clasped her hand, feeling for signs of illness. "Only once, and it was disturbing," Mildred said. She thought something a little different. "Oh Merlin I jammed her brain. I_ jammed_ up my friend's brain!"

The professor continued, "She couldn't let her pain escape. Too many good emotions running amuck throughout her mind caused her brain to overreact to any sort of stimuli. That would explain the nighttime math problems. You changed her from a hurt child to a crazed happy-computer."

"I just wanted the screaming to end!" shouted Mildred. Heads turned but returned to their original business. The antics of a worried pre-adolescent meant nothing to uninvolved witches or wizards, especially since that pre-adolescent looked vaguely like a Slytherin.

Professor Palmer rubbed her back in small, rhythmic circles. "Shhh. I know, it'll be fine. I'll go tell the healers what we've learned."

"No," Mildred shoved the hand away from her, "I'll tell them. Rae is my responsibility."

Mildred marched to the front desk, found the kindly looking woman, and explained the professor's revelation. She was given directions and a pass allowing her into any room on that floor.

* * *

The lift's doors opened. "Fourth floor," announced a cool voice, identical to the voice at the Ministry of Magic. Mildred tore through the halls, scanning frantically for Room 417. Upon finding it, she showed her pass to the doorknob, as she was directed by the woman at the front desk, and wrenched the heavy door forward.

Rae was lying on a white table, two healers standing over her. The third was sitting by her head, his eyes glazed. Mildred realized that he was in her mind. "I must have looked that way when I was inside her," Mildred thought. One of the healers noticed her standing at the door, watching their procedure. "Can we help you? You shouldn't be in here, little girl."

"I know something that could fix her. Just figured out. Please let me stay to explain."

"Start explaining," said the second healer, as he walked to stand beside the first.

Mildred tried as best she could to elucidate her professor's realization. The light of comprehension slowly lit in each of the healer's eyes. One of them walked swiftly to the third, now shaking with the exertion of remaining in Rae's mind for so long without her conscious permission. He whispered in the healer's ear, who gave a slight dip of the head to show his understanding. Mildred stared in awe: he could pay attention to the hospital and stand inside Rae's mind at the same time.

"Thank you. You may see her once she is ready. This should save her."

Mildred swore she had never felt joy until that moment. She was in tears as she rode the lift to the lobby. Witches and wizards in the elevator regarded her with disdain, a few with the aforementioned emotion combined with pity. She ignored them as she ran towards the professor and Dawson. "They were almost at the point of discovering it themselves. I probably saved them five minutes or so. But five minutes is a lot in Rae's condition. She should be fine."

The professor clasped her hands together. Dawson looked at his shoes again, but smiling more widely than Mildred would have believed possible.

* * *

Rae lifted her head groggily and saw nothing. The walls were bare and white instruments adorned the walls. She had no view, though natural light bathed the room from an unknown source. In one corner, Rae saw a touch of silver: the hinges on a white door. The door had no window, and no identifying marker. She tried to turn her head to the right and look for a nightstand. The world swirled. Rae thought she saw a nightstand, but she couldn't be sure when it mixed with the thirty beds and fifteen doors that galloped across her mind like a herd of antelope. It took a couple seconds for the doors to reduce from fifteen to five to two and finally, blessedly, to one. She turned her head, very slowly, to look at the nightstand again.

Rae saw more cards than could possibly fit on a table. "Though," she thought, "That might have more to do with me than the amount of cards." There were really five cards, and a couple of the cards were just letters. The first looked official. Rae held it in shaky hands and tried to rip across the top. Her fingers couldn't get a decent hold, so she attacked the paper with her teeth.

"You really should avoid doing that, my dear. You will ruin your beautiful teeth," remarked a calm voice from a head sliding out from under her pillow.

"Qimat!" Rae exclaimed. Her voice sunk into the white walls. Rae could feel the silence pressing in upon her from the ceiling, the floors, the walls, and she couldn't even speak to keep it at bay. She shuddered.

"It is far too quiet for my tastes too," Qimat said, in line with her thoughts.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"I have no human conception of time. Do not ask me. Ask your friends when, if, they return to visit you."

"Who sent the cards?"

If Qimat were human, he would have raised a quizzical eyebrow. "You honestly expect me to understand who wrote human letters with a completely human system of writing down thoughts? I am, of course, flattered that you think me all knowing, but I am unfortunately lacking in some areas of unimportant knowledge." Qimat tried to contain his sneer and failed miserably.

"Well I need to open this one, so I hope you have enough knowledge and foresigh to keep your mouth shut for a bit," Rae replied and attempted to take out the first letter.

Qimat chuckled and watched her open what he still thought was a lousy human invention. "Why write ideas down when they can simply be spoken? I would not want a record of my thoughts for any and all to see long after I am gone," he thought.

Rae's hands shook so strongly she could barely make out the words. As she read further, she didn't understand how the words kept from leaping off the page. They were far too important.

_Greetings Rae Magelin,_

_As the Headmistress of Slytherin House, I felt it necessary to inform your parents of your recent injury. We were not told why you suffered in the manner that you did, and we can only assume it a result of your low weight and recent fever._

"The headmistress knew exactly what happened to my mind," Rae thought and started to grin, "But no one told her the circumstances." Her grin widened. "She probably thinks her charm did the whole thing and she's trying to keep the incident hushed up." Rae was sure that Qimat would enjoy this. "Reading between the lines, Qimat. That is why you should learn how to read. The words on the page are only half of what's there."

_Your parents understand the risks of continuing to keep you at Slytherin House, and have decided that the House is still in your best interest._

Rae let out a stream of curses so vile that Qimat felt it necessary to break the silence. "Can you please stop insulting…. I do not know what you were not insulting, actually. You seemed to have covered your bases extraordinarily well. Please stop." He pretended not to see the tears. He would address those later.

_Please note that they still care very much about you. I take these words from their letter to me. They feel that you will be safest at Slytherin House, and they are happy that this sort of incident occurred while at a protected facility instead of at your home. I believe your mother wrote that she shuddered to think of what could happen if you returned home and suffered another attack. _

"Or what the neighbors would think," Rae added bitterly.

_Their decision about the summer holidays has been solidified. You will remain at Slytherin House, but you have permission to visit friends over the summer if you so wish. Your parents do not need to be contacted if these visits occur._

"Why is she blabbering on about all this useless junk in her letter? Probably to distract me from the fact that she messed with my mind. I'm surprised she was sorted into Gryffindor," Rae mumbled aloud. Qimat tried to stifle a giggle.

_As the last subject of my letter I would, of course, like to wish your speedy recover. I would also like to let you know that the amount of food across all houses has been improved, as we saw that our portion sizes were far too small. We had not realized that such health problems could occur from our diet. This should hopefully keep other, similar attacks from happening in the future._

Rae translated the words into Parseltongue. "What do they mean?"

"It's a concession and a warning. The Ministry probably got onto her back once they saw how little you weighed. The concession is that she will be required to give more food to all the kids, including those in Kelly House. You would think that the Ministry wouldn't get involved because of wizarding politics, but I assume you have some allies in high places. The warning is that you must never try another stunt in front of the dining room again. I do not think she will try to Obliviate you again, simply because of the effects she left on your head last time, but she will no doubt take other action against you." He paused. "Is that the end of the letter?"

"All she has is her name at the bottom, so yeah."

"That was probably her most important point. Lasting impressions are important, whether spoken," he paused for a moment to inject arrogance into his tone, "or _written_."

* * *

Rae's eyelids fluttered as she lay on her thin sheets. She had stayed a week in the hospital, and the healers finally saw her fit see visitors. She would leave in a few days. Professor Palmer visited when she slept and placed three heavy blankets onto her small frame. She could barely move as she tried to see the state of her room.

The first thing Rae noticed was Qimat's laughter. He couldn't contain himself. "What is it?"

Qimat couldn't answer through the laughter and simply gestured to her face. One of the healers-in-training thought it was a good idea to try cosmetic products on Rae, saying she would be a good 'test subject' since her skin was so young. The healers still hadn't discovered a remedy; the healer-in-training was no longer employed at St. Mungo's.

Mildred was researching methods of removing the charm to keep herself occupied. She sat in a corner of the room on a transfigured chair with a book half her size. "Mildred, where am I?" asked Rae, pleasantly confused. Each time Rae woke, she forgot where she was or what recent events had passed. She remembered through her last night at Slytherin House, but everything after morphed into a blur of sleep, confusion, and dementia.

"At St. Mungo's."

"Are you sick?" she asked and looked at Mildred's drawn face.

Dawson, sitting on the floor with another book, gave her a light bop on the head. "You're the one who's sick, goofball," he said.

"The other professors have assured me you need not worry about returning to classes until after you are fully recovered," announced Professor Palmer as she entered the room.

"Thank you, Professor. I'm still confused as to what happened, though. Would you be able to tell me, or is it a big secret? Like a surprise party for my brain!"

Mildred looked at Professor Palmer worriedly, but the professor shook her head. Rae was being nonsensical as a potion the healers gave her the previous night to test how her brain handled raw emotion. The giddiness was an unwanted but amusing side effect. "I closed the sad drawer in your brain, which made you happy, which made you sick." Mildred laughed at how ridiculous her explanation sounded. However, much of the magical world sounded ridiculous when explained in simple terms.

"I'm hungry. Do they have any food here?" A frown crossed her face, and she motioned for Mildred to come closer. "Have you been feeding Kelly House while I've been sick?" she whispered, hoping the professor couldn't hear her though they were in the same room.

"No, but the head is supposed to be feeding them more. "Mildred gestured to an opened letter on Rae's bedside table. "Dawson also came back to the school with me so we could grab some of your things. He told some of the other Emeralds. We'll all be taking shifts from now on."

The professor broke in, "I've always thought that policy needed changing. The Head's idea of 'pitting the students against one another' could only work for so long. It's nice to see the students moving for a change. I don't know how you'll be punished for this if she finds out, but I'll try to back you as much as I can." Mildred was glad Dawson had found her instead of another teacher when they needed someone to take Rae to St. Mungo's. Professor Palmer was one of the only teachers who didn't call them revolting names during class.

"Professor, you could back us by putting a good word in for Emerald House to the referees. I heard we lost another hockey game, the fifth one this season. We hadn't lost a hockey game for twenty years until now!"

"Perhaps I will speak to them."

"Where have you been sleeping?" Rae asked, looking at the dark circles under all of their eyes.

"On the floor," Mildred replied bluntly, "But Professor Palmer conjured some air mattresses. And we weren't here the entire time. You weren't allowed visitors for the first two days. Professor Palmer had a hotel room in Diagon Alley for us for a couple days." Mildred lowered her voice, "She got us ice cream!"

Rae flushed from their kindness, the red looking even deeper thanks to the blush of the cosmetic product. Qimat coiled himself around her wrist. "You still look ridiculous, you know."

Rae ignored him until the snake grinned, in whatever way snakes found to grin.

"How long have I been asleep for exactly?"

"Your human conception of time is arbitrary to me," was the snake's curt reply.

"A week, but you've been awake for little bits during that time. I actually don't know why I'm explaning this to you, since you'll probably go to sleep again and forget everything. The healers said that might happen for the first month or so. Anyway, counting the few days before that where Mildred tried to fix your brain, and the days after the cruciatus curse was placed on you—" Rae flinched, "you've missed about three weeks in the past few months. You would have missed those three months if I hadn't messed with your brain, so I guess what I did _could_ be considered a good thing?" Mildred knew that what she did should never be considered anything other than wrong. Hopefully she convinced Rae, at least, to see it differently.

Rae turned to Qimat, "When is it then? I can't believe I have to ask what day, scratch that, _month_ it is." Rae rolled her eyes and grimaced.

"How many times do I have to repeat myself?" the snake began in a calm voice, "Your human perception of time, is completely irrelevant, and therefore unknown, to me. Though I will do much for you, I refuse to become a human alarm clock."

Professor Palmer cut in again, "It's the 6th of June today." She resumed her silent pose, hands folded in her lap, head bowed as if in a meditative state.

"That's la-ate," Rae's reply was cut by a large yawn.

Mildred reached reflexively for the sleeping potion, but a healer stopped her. Standing at the door, she pointed at the goblet of potion mixed into pumpkin juice. "No more of that for this one. She needs to learn how to sleep on her own, especially when she's already tired. We don't want her becoming dependent on potions for the rest of her life."

Rae curled beneath the thin sheets and blankets, warm and foggy despite how hungry she was. She could eat later, she figured. They would feed her potions for being hungry, anyway. She slipped into unconsciousness almost as soon as her head hit the pillow…

* * *

_Rae ran through the green field of her usual dreams again, passing the spot where she normally lay to watch the clouds. Suddenly, she realized she wasn't running to another spot to watch clouds, she was running from something. She turned around, but only saw darkness. A formless mass covered her field and leapt after her. The darkness engulfed everything, flowers, trees, grass, with dark swirls that would take her into its waiting arms. Rae's breathing sped; her arms pumped at her sides. She would not allow herself to be consumed. She drew on the memory of her last happy moment, being in the hospital with Professor Palmer, Mildred, and Dawson. All she could see was white. She focused on the forest ahead of her instead and sprinted into the supposed protection of the trees. _

_A cruel laugh rang through the trees. The bark distorted itself to bear the Head's misshapen face, now broken free of its corporeal limits. The Heads chased her, at the head of the darkness, encouraging it onward. But one by one, the Heads fell prey, screaming at the darkness not to take them. "Take the child!" they screeched as the darkness took them as it took everything. It took its commander, its victims, and all the innocent bystanders; everything in its path became food for its insatiable gluttony. _

_Mildred appeared beside her, running with her. Rae looked back, zoomed out, and realized she was operating the video editing software. Somewhere a clock was ticking, or was it? Was it the sound of her heartbeat coming to an end or the sound of the Head clicking her teeth? Was it the pounding she felt in her head or the pounding of a thousand drums to a tune only she could hear? And somewhere, the filing cabinet danced in her thoughts. It leapt across the room and smashed the video editing software. Thoughts scattered the room, yet she could still think. And the clock ticked on while someone screamed. Or was the screaming her? Was she dreaming or was everything else the dream? Did she live in a world where dreams were reality and reality was a handful of dreams? Everyone she loved, they would be a figment of her imagination! Self-doubt and worthlessness scurried through her mind, leaving only destruction in its wake. It reared behind her, like a large lion waiting to bellow ugly things in her ears. Instead, it had the soft voice of a snake. "Rae," it hissed, "wake up."_

* * *

Rae's eyes opened mid-scream. Qimat, prone to exaggeration, said she had screamed for hours, when he explained what happened after the healers sedated her. Mildred shook with rage. Rae, above the roaring in her ears, heard her yell at the healers. "You told me I couldn't give her a sleeping potion! Why? Did you want her to suffer? She's just a little kid!" The healers ignored her.

Professor Palmer stood to the side, shaking. Apparently, she tried to enter Rae's mind as safely as she could, and was pushed out almost immediately. However, it was not before she could glimpse the nightmare. It was towards the end, when the screaming started. She had stood in the dark chamber of her thoughts, everything smashed around her. The lion of Gryffindor wrought havoc all about her mind. "This was not natural. Children do not dream such things."

The healers checked Rae for traces of dark magic and found an untraceable dream-curse. Apparently, someone had cast a spell to affect the mind while she was asleep, and it affected her dreams as well as her conscious mind. They were not certain of the full damage, but they saw minimal impact on Rae's overall mental stability. "But the lion broke _everything_!" Rae protested.

The healer, a kind man with a lined face, approached her. His steps were soft on the hospital floor. He was trained to make as little noise as possible and calculable movements; healers called upon him when they needed to keep a patient from being startled. "You think the lion broke everything. Actually, the lion damaged very little. Part of it, the type that affected your dreams, invaded your thought process to create a devastating nightmare. In fact, the animal itself only ventured into the movement center of your brain. You'd be surprised how much Muggles have learned about the brain…" he continued in a lecture on what Muggles called "neuroscience." "Professor Palmer sighed and the healer restricted his speech to his point. "Anyway, you may have some trouble moving certain parts of your body, but it didn't leave any lasting damage as far as intelligence or judgment making is concerned."

Rae, who had almost fallen asleep at the mention of neuroscience, flashed a broad smile at the thought of a full recovery. She set her hands on her legs and frowned. She patted them again and her frown deepened. "Will my legs get better?"

"What do you mean? Do they hurt? I can give you something for the pain. Your mind might be feigning muscle exhaustion. After all, it was very confused last night with the dark magic and all."

"I can't feel one of them at all." Rae said, confused. "Does that happen a lot? I touch it, but it doesn't do anything."

The healer's face darkened. "It's… unusual, but we'll find the cause of it. You'll be better in no time. We've just got to do a few more tests, is all."

Tests revealed that the damage in Rae's leg was limited to the muscles in her left thigh. Unfortunately, as the dark magic had been removed and the damage remained, it was permanent. "You'll still be able to walk, you know. It'll take some practice, but you can move all the muscles in your hip and below the knee on your left leg. Some people can walk without whole legs. Usually wizards don't adopt Muggle ideas of prosthetics, but if we could…" his voice trailed into Muggle inventions and concepts again. No one cared, least of all Dawson, who was appalled.

"You're telling me that she's at the only wizarding hospital in Britain, and you can't cure her? That's your job!"

"Dawson—" Professor Palmer and Rae started in unison. Rae continued. "It's fine. If I can still walk, it's okay. I've never been much of a runner anyway. Besides, you guys never let me on the sports teams anyway, except for Hopscotch. I can still do that you know." The game, which had been popular in Slytherin House, was a minor form of competition between the four houses. The winner of a hopscotch tournament received one chocolate frog. "I've always loved chocolate frogs. Maybe I can win one now!"

Mildred was in shock. The little girl who she'd helped down off the dresser one day could no longer walk for herself. "I guess I'll be helping you get down from things a lot more often, huh?"

"See, Mildred's got the right attitude!" Rae said cheerfully, though the expression on Mildred's face was extremely contradictory. Dawson looked like he wanted to punch the healers.

"I'll be fine, and as soon as I can leave, we'll be going back to Slytherin House." She threw Mildred a meaningful look, "And we can start getting ready for the rest of the year."

The healer thought she was speaking of learning to walk with her new disability, and left silently. "Quite a peculiar girl," he thought, "Cheerful about even the most depressing things."

Rae felt a couple tears drop onto her hand. She didn't know she'd let them fall.

**A/N: Hi guys. I'm pretty happy with how the story has progressed up to this point, and I hope you are too. I want to let everyone know at this point how much I really value your support. I don't know if you guys know this, but every time one of you makes a review, I go back and change the story just a tad. What you say really means something to me, and I would love for you to tell me EXACTLY how you feel. I want to take a second to thank all of my followers right now, and personally: Miss Rabbit, LittleMissLiz, hiddenhibernian, Lauzag, and LizzieTheLudicrous, you guys are amazing. Thank you so much for the continued support. **

**Now you guys are probably asking, why did she randomly decide to write us all a little love note? Okay, well I won't be able to update for the next three weeks (don't take my complete word on that since I have a little problem with really wanting to update and write ALL THE TIME). My spring break starts March 15th, and until then it's crunch time here at boarding school. I like to keep you guys posted. In addition, I would appreciate some more reviews before I go further. No, I'm not going to set a limit on how many reviews I receive before I post the next chapter, since you guys are busy, and I'm busy, and I know that I don't always have the time to write a thoughtful review. However, I still would like at least one or two more on some later chapters just so I can get some thoughts about where to go from here. I have five more pre-written chapters that I'm uploading, but each chapter is significantly changed when it comes up on the site, and I might even replace a chapter with a new one if your suggestions inspire me. **

**So yeah, that was my little blurb. It turned out to be more of a medium-sized blurb I think. Anyway, thanks again guys. :)**

**A/N #2: Okay, I hate to be that author, but I think I'll be discontinuing this story FOR NOW. It's not that I don't love the plot, but I've become uninspired to write about things pertaining to my lovely Rae Magelin for now. Be assured that her character is safe and sound in my noggin, and the other five chapters are waiting to be edited when I have the time. However, I want to pursue other writing possibilities on fanfiction, and so I'm discontinuing this story for a while. It might be two years (it probably will be about two years and three months) before I get back into this story, but I WILL return. Don't worry, loves. And I won't disappear on you! I'll be writing one-shots for challenges, and I'll be working on my next multichapter project. I'm not quitting; I'm simply moving to something new. **


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